A Tangled Web
by swifters
Summary: A multi-national criminal gang is about to be brought to its knees thanks to an investigation carried out by the Hardys. Their leader is out for revenge. Warnings- Casefiles reality but boys in their 20's. Terrible language. Yet more Joe-whumping and kidnapping. If you don't like those things, don't read it!
1. Chapter 1

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 1- SUCCESSES

Fenton Hardy sat back in his chair, put his feet up on the coffee table and smiled. They had done it! The Hardy Detective Agency team had been working on a contract job for the government agency known as 'The Network' for the last six months. It was 100% office-based, 100% on-line and 100% tedious. But it had been worth it. He looked over at his eldest son, Frank. He was still at his computer, checking and re-checking his work for the umpteenth time. Fenton's smile grew broader. He was so proud of the men his boys had become.

Frank. Always quieter, more serious, more studious, he had been the driving force behind the Hardy Detective Agency's recent successes. He had observed the rise of internet crime and made it his business to get on every course, meet every expert and volunteer for every opportunity that would lead him to being The Best at combating this new era of bad-guys.

Frank had poked, prodded and carried Fenton and Joe along with him to begin with. They had preferred the old-fashioned, feet-on-the-street detection that had served them well up to that point. But they had seen the light! The internet was no longer the realm of the nerd. It had become the territory of choice for organised criminal gangs. They communicated on-line. They traded on-line. They defrauded on-line. They weren't faceless bad guys moving numbers around. They were real bad guys trafficking drugs, weapons and innocent people on a multi-national scale. Fenton and Joe had been sucked into a world where making seemingly simple connections could bring about the downfall of supervillains. Link a few email accounts, a few names, ground truth an IP address, locate a server….. And they had become hooked. The three men worked as a team, unpicking the seemingly impossibly tangled webs woven by the bad guys. They were simply the best and took their pick of contracts with law-enforcement agencies. They still took on local investigations and were as keen as ever to get their hands dirty, but IT detection seemed to have become their bread-and-butter.

This latest case had been the most challenging yet. They had been head-hunted to join an inter-agency team attempting to bring down a shadowy group known as 'Zeus'. They were thought to be based in South America…or South Africa, or maybe Europe. Their main source of income was ingenious. They had control of a computer programme whose sole function was to extract money from peoples' accounts undetected. Adding a few cents here and a dollar there to legitimate transactions. Who would notice? Who would complain about such small losses? It was almost victimless. But multiply the criminal gains across literally billions of affected accounts….. Zeus had become RICH. Who were they? What were they using this money for? But it had been noticed. Whispers of the existence of the group emerged amongst the intelligence agencies from undercover operatives.

Enter the Hardys. They had been fed a few names and the details of a few confirmed tampered transactions to give them something to pick away at. The Hardys connected transactions to mazes of IP addresses, followed the mazes to their end and eventually tied in real names and real addresses of real bad guys. The picture that emerged was ugly. The group was involved in trafficking whatever could be trafficked. They specialised in children, buying or kidnapping them and selling them on into sexual slavery. They funded terrorist groups on a grand scale. They were scum. And to everyone's surprise, Zeus had an identifiable leader. Jason Gilchrist- a man Fenton had co-incidentally encountered 20 years earlier. He had been a petty criminal in New York at the time. Fenton had recognised his intelligence and remembered him well- a directionless genius. It appeared he had found his direction in life.

The Hardys' chain of good, admissible, evidence was undeniable and masterfully presented. Now, the evidence had been submitted and formed the lynchpin of the case against Gilchrist in particular. A synchronised hit by multi-national law enforcement agencies was planned on the main holdings of the Zeus empire that should bring it crashing to its knees. They had identified strongholds in Colombia, New Mexico, central France and Hungary. By the end of tonight, they would be history!

Fenton let his self-satisfied thoughts wander to Joe, his youngest son. Handsome, sporty and impetuous. Rarely serious and always tremendous company- that was Joe. Although he preferred to be hands-on with criminals, he had proved to be a natural with high-tech crime. Fenton was pretty sure a system hadn't been invented that Joe couldn't hack. He was due home later in the day, having been on a defensive driving course for the last week. The demands of the office-based investigation were great. 100% concentration was required. They had decided early on that they would all need time away on a regular basis to maintain their effectiveness. Joe had taken his break last- a weekend in New York with his fiancé, Vanessa Bender, followed by the high-octane driving course courtesy of a contact in the police department.

Frank's voice cut into Fenton's thoughts.

'Joe is gonna be so annoyed he missed the grand finale!' Frank had finally closed down his computer, satisfied nothing had been missed.

'He will, but I think he'll be pretty happy to be coming back to some regular cases. I've got some surveillance needing done for another case next week. A good old-fashioned confidence trickster'.

Frank groaned, but secretly felt pleased at the prospect of spending some time cooped up in a car with his brother. They would drive each other crazy, but in a good way!

'Anyway', said Fenton, 'he should be back in time to watch the fireworks. We've got clearance to tap into the helmet-cam feed from a couple of the stings, so we'll at least get to see some of the faces we've been chasing.'

'Don't you wish we were in there ourselves, Dad?'

'Yes and no. It would be exciting, that's for sure. But Mom and I get really fed up visiting you two in hospital and these guys are bad bastards. It's more important to get the evidence right to make sure they are put in prison and _stay_ in prison than it is to lay hands on them in person. Don't you think?'

'I know what you mean, Dad. I'm not sure Joe would agree though!'

They both laughed.

'I hope Mom, Callie and Vanessa's lunch went well' said Frank. Frank and Joe's mother Laura, Frank's long-term girlfriend Callie Shaw and Joe's fiancé Vanessa were good friends. They had managed to co-ordinate a day off together and were planning to meet to discuss Joe and Vanessa's wedding plans before going for a dress fitting…two months to go until the big day! Callie had been so excited when Vanessa asked her to be her bridesmaid. The two had been thick as thieves, plotting and planning, ever since.

'I'm sure they're having a great time. Wine, pampering and dresses. I'm just glad I'm not there!' joked Fenton.

…..

Meanwhile, in the back of an unmarked, unregistered van across town, three women huddled up together. They were barely able to move as their captors had tied them so tight. Each was hooded and gagged.

The day had started so well! Laura, Callie and Vanessa had arranged to meet at _Le Porte Bonheur_, a very nice new French restaurant close to the shop where Vanessa and Callie were due to go for their latest dress fitting sessions in the early afternoon. Lunch had been fantastic and they left in good spirits. Walking arm in arm, they entered the alley leading around the side of the restaurant to the street behind. They had thought nothing of the seemingly unoccupied van parked in the alley, cab facing them. It was a mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 2 - THE HOMECOMING

Joe bounded up the steps to the apartment he shared with Vanessa. Their home was on the top floor of a beautiful old two storey colonial building. It had its own access stair which ran up the front of the building to a small balcony area. Vanessa had fallen in love with it as soon as she had seen it and had a dozen containers of plants growing in the tiny outside space. Joe noticed an extra plant had appeared since he left. He rolled his eyes and smiled affectionately. He unlocked the front door and went in, de-activating the alarm. He slung his bag down in the hall and went through into the kitchen in search of food.

He was feeling happy and still pretty pumped after the adrenaline-filled course. He'd come out on top (of course), over advanced police drivers. He grinned to himself, thinking of the slightly put out expressions on his course-mates faces. At 25, he had been the youngest and least experienced person there. He couldn't wait to tell Frank all the gory details! He smiled as he spotted a note left by Vanessa.

_Hi babe, can't wait to see you and hear about your course. Maybe you can show me some of your new fast moves later… Van xxx_

Joe chuckled at the cheesy message and treated himself to a few impure thoughts about which moves he should show her.

He was interrupted by his cellphone. He pulled it out his pocket and smiled broadly when he saw who it was.

'Hi gorgeous!'

'Joe baby, where are you?' Vanessa's voice was shaking. She sounded terrified.

'Home, what's wrong!?'

'Joe, I have a message from Zeus. 'We have Vanessa, Callie and your mother. We will release them unharmed in exchange for you. Stay where you are and we will pick you up in 5 minutes. Contact anyone and they will die'. Joe, I'm sorry, don't…' The phone went dead.

Joe's jaw dropped and his breathing became rapid. 'No, oh shit no'.

He had 5 minutes, what should he do? He couldn't take any risks. Zeus had the capacity to monitor both phones and emails if they put their minds to it. Joe ran into his home office and opened a surveillance kit from his desk drawer. He took out a satellite tracking device the size of a screw head, activated it and slid it into his jeans pocket. Then he got a pen and paper. He wrote a message for Frank with shaking hands.

_Zeus got V, C and mom. They want me in exchange. I have to do this, can't see another way. Sat tracker on me. Please no heroics for me, better me than anyone else! Love you all, Joe._

He folded it up and stuffed it inside his sports bag by the door, just in the shot of the covert CCTV camera that covered their front door. He looked up at the hidden camera, knowing Frank and his father would later see the footage. He smiled and gave a little wave.

As he turned away from the door, he heard a vehicle screeching to a stop outside. He stood back from the door drawing a shaky breath. He heard heavy footsteps coming up their stairs then the crash of one of Vanessa's precious containers smashing. Joe braced himself. At that, the door crashed in and three masked men, dressed head to toe in black, burst in yelling 'Down on your knees, hands behind your head'. Everything went black as a hood was put over his head and tied shut. He felt rigid handcuffs gripping his wrists and hands searching his pockets. He held his breath…..but they missed the tiny tracker! Joe was dragged, unresisting, from his apartment and thrown in the back of a van.


	3. Chapter 3

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 3- CONFUSION REIGNS

Across town from her and Joe's apartment, in the back of a different van, Vanessa lay fuming and terrified. She had had no intention of complying with her captors and phoning Joe, but 'Ugly Bastard no 1', as she had affectionately christened him, had grabbed Laura by the neck and started to strangle her. Vanessa had had no choice. Now she shut her eyes, praying for rescue and praying harder that Joe wouldn't do what they wanted. But she already knew that he would. He would take no risks when it came to the welfare of any one of them. He loved her and his mother unconditionally, and over the years had come to love Callie as one would an annoying sister. He would sacrifice himself for any one of them in a second.

The three women heard a phone ringing in the front of the van. Vanessa almost smiled at the ringtone. Johnny Cash, 'Ring of Fire'. Joe had used that for a while. Funny how the tastes of scum and heroes could overlap. A short conversation followed between the man she thought of as 'Ugly Bastard no 2' and whoever had phoned him. Their prisoners strained their ears to try to follow it and what they heard which chilled them to the bone.

'You've got him?...What a fool! And the boss seriously wants to let them go?... What the hell's going on with him?... Right, whatever, which drop off?'

At that, the van lurched into motion.

….

Frank and Fenton, oblivious to the dramas unfolding around them, sat in the Hardy Detective Agency's downtown office, feet up, drinking coffee. They were discussing some other, less urgent cases the agency had taken on and planning how to approach them.

The phone rang. Fenton groaned at the interruption and reached over to his desk to pick it up.

'Fenton Hardy.'

'Fenton?' It was Ezra Collig, the Police Chief of the Bayport area.

'Ezra, what can I do for you?' said Fenton, rolling his eyes at Frank. Over the years, Collig had alternated between trying to get the Hardys to stay out of police investigations and expecting them to drop everything to come and help him. At the moment it was generally the latter.

'Fenton, something's happened. Laura, Vanessa and Callie have been found by a member of the public. They'd been kidnapped then dumped, left tied up at the Bakersfield Industrial Estate. But they are safe, they are fine.'

Fenton Hardy jumped to his feet. 'What? What are you talking about? They went shopping didn't they? Where are they?'

Frank looked at him in alarm.

'They're OK, they're being brought to headquarters. But Fenton...' Collig hesitated.

'What is it Collig?'

'My officer at the scene says the girls think Joe's been captured by someone called Zeus. Does that mean anything to you?'

Fenton went white. 'Oh shit, no, no,_ no_! On my way.'

'Dad..?'

'Get your jacket, Frank'

…..

By the time Fenton and Frank got to police headquarters and were shown to the Chief's office, Collig was able to give them a full update on what had happened.

'It looks like they were snatched in the alley running north from Berkley Street by four masked men. They were kept long enough for Joe to be contacted and told to give himself up in exchange for them. He was given 5 minutes. They were going to pick him up from his apartment.'

'We've got to get there!' yelled Frank, jumping back up out of the chair he had just been shown into.

Collig shook his head. 'I sent a car as soon as we picked up the girls, Frank. I'm sorry, he's gone. The door's been kicked in. I have a description of the van the men who attacked the girls were in, and one of Joe, circulating. We've CSI enroute to Joe's apartment and the industrial area the girls were dumped in. There's a team just arrived at the alleyway they were taken from. We've got officers out on foot looking for witnesses every place we know they've been. Tell me if there's more I can be doing. What do you know about this 'Zeus' guy?'

'It's not a guy. It's a gang.' said Fenton.

'I've not heard of them. Local?'

'No. Multi-national.'

'Oh shit. That doesn't help narrow things down.'

Fenton gave Collig a scathing look.

Frank cut in before his father could reply. 'Dad, Joe's CCTV- there must be something on it.'

'Let's go!'

Frank hesitated for a second. 'What about mom and the girls?'

'Sorry' said Collig, 'we're in the process of noting statements from them. It's best done now. I'll call you when we're done. Let me know what you find.'

Frank and Fenton glanced at each other, nodded and hurried out of the office. They knew the girls would be needing their support. But it would just have to wait.

…

Fenton and Frank arrived at Joe's apartment. They could see police officers in the area knocking at doors in search of witnesses. They were being thorough. There was an officer posted at the apartment door, no doubt keeping the scene secure for the crime scene investigators who were expected shortly. Collig must have let the officer know they were coming. He let them in. 'Just don't touch anything they might have come in contact with.' he said, obviously disapproving of the deviation from procedure.

'We know that better than you, son' said Fenton.

Joe and Vanessa's green front door was bent and splintered. Frank looked up at the covert cameras as they went in- one inside and one outside the door. Like the satellite trackers they had, the cameras were the size of a screw head. The internal one had been incorporated into the doorframe of the hall cupboard beside the front door, sitting over a deeply recessed screw. The external one was on the support for Vanessa's pretty hanging basket. No unsuspecting person would ever realise they were being filmed.

Frank took a deep breath and moved through to Joe's home office, careful to check for potential evidence, such as footprints, as he went. The cameras were activated by a motion-detector and recorded in real time to a unit concealed in the office. Frank booted up Joe's laptop, entered his password and connected wirelessly to the recorder. He rewound the internal camera footage first. Spotting a blur of movement, he hit pause, then play. He sensed his father watching behind him.

There was Joe. He was putting a slip of paper in his bag, turning and looking up at the camera. Joe smiled and waved as if he could see them. A shiver went down Frank's spine. Then Joe looked at the door and moved back. Frank and Fenton watched in horror as the men burst through the door. Seconds later they dragged Joe, now handcuffed and hooded, out of the apartment. The exterior CCTV camera showed Joe being dragged down the stairs then thrown in the back of a white, plateless transit which sped off in the direction of the freeway.

'I'll get that paper' said Fenton. He re-appeared a second later, reading Joe's note as he walked. 'He's got a sat tracker- good man Joe! Quick, get onto the tracking website, see if we can get a fix on his location.'

Frank typed as fast as his shaking hands would allow. He entered the password for the tracker and a satellite image of the outskirts of Bayport popped up. The tracker was programmed to transmit its location every 10 minutes. For the last 30 minutes, it had sat, unmoving, in a warehouse near the docks. Frank and Fenton were out of the apartment and screeching away in their car in ten seconds flat.

…..

The Hardys arrived at the warehouse at the same time as three police cruisers, alerted by a phone call Frank made to Collig en-route. At his instruction, the marked vehicles had approached without activating their sirens to avoid tipping off the kidnappers. Fenton took charge and his authority was not questioned. He quietly directed the available bodies to surround the warehouse to prevent anyone escaping.

The warehouse sat on its own at the extreme south end of the docks. It appeared to have been disused for some time. There were weeds and scrub growing up through cracks in the concrete of the parking area surrounding it, providing a small amount of cover.

The building had no windows but there were two doors. They were close together, one being for pedestrian access and one, a large roller door, to facilitate vehicular access. Both were shut.

The police officers in position, Fenton signalled for Frank to follow him. The two men moved silently from one area of scrub to the next, slowly approaching the warehouse. They then moved quietly to the pedestrian access door and stopped, one on either side of it. Fenton produced a handgun from a shoulder-holster. Frank raised his eyebrows in surprise but felt a rush of relief at the same time. His father rarely carried a gun, but this seemed like a good time to start. Maintaining eye-contact with each other, they silently counted to three and then…

WHAM… Frank burst the door in with one mighty kick. Fenton thrust past him shouting 'Police, hands in the air!' Then stopped.

The warehouse was empty.

Nearly empty. There was an old wooden chair in the middle of the floor. Sitting on the chair, neatly folded, were Joe Hardy's clothes, no doubt complete with tracker. And sitting on the clothes was a note. Fenton walked over, picked it up and read it. 'Gilchrist.' He whispered hoarsely. He passed Frank the note and turned away. Frank looked down at the note in his hand.

_Nice 'tracking' Fenton! You've caused me some problems. I intend to make you suffer. I have your son. I will break him and kill him. _

_Au Revoir! _

_An old friend._


	4. Chapter 4

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 4- DESPERATION

Frank sat with his head in his hands. He and his father had just returned to their office from the police station. They were alone. After a lot of arguing and discussion, Laura Hardy, Callie and Vanessa had been taken to a safe-house by the police. It was not a popular option. Callie had cried out of worry, anger and frustration. His Mom had shouted. Vanessa had shouted _a lot__._ They were strong, independent, capable women and had been furious at being treated like 'unwilling sheep', as Laura had put it. But it had to be- the risks were too great. No one could explain yet why Gilchrist had kept his word and let them go….. but it was no guarantee they wouldn't be targeted again. Frank and Fenton would have to deal with the inevitable fallout resulting from side-lining them afterwards…

Fenton and Frank had declined to go, refusing to do anything but focus on finding Joe. No one had pushed the suggestion- all concerned knew that their knowledge and input was vital to the search. But where to start? Frank focused briefly on his father, who was pacing around the room. Fenton had been on the phone to contacts in The Network non-stop since they got back, shouting obscenities at everyone unfortunate enough to have answered the phone to him. 'Are you going to tell me how the hell they got operatives to Bayport without it being picked up? What are your sources playing at and where was your surveillance!? You're incompetent idiots!'…. 'How the hell did Gilchrist even connect us to the investigation?'…'some bastard must have had access to our reports'…. Frank tried not to listen. He was trying to clear his head, to _think. _

His thoughts snapped back to the CCTV footage of Joe. _That wave._ It was almost like he was saying 'goodbye'. Frank felt his throat constrict and a sob escaped before he could stop it. 'No'. He caught himself. There would be time for emotion later. Joe would most likely be still alive. The note had said they were going to 'break him' before killing him. That gave them time. A lot of time, knowing his stubborn, fearless brother. He didn't let himself think about how they might be trying to 'break' Joe.

The police, now joined by Network agents, were doing their thing at the scenes of crime- the apartment, the alleyway, the industrial estate where the girls were dumped and the warehouse. Something might come from that, or Gilchrist's note. But Frank had a strong suspicion that the men they were dealing with were professional enough to be forensically aware. They would have been sure to leave no traces of evidence behind. Every available police vehicle was out searching for the vans involved. But Joe would probably have been moved quickly from the van he was taken in. Zeus would no doubt have access to any number of vehicles, boats, private planes and helicopters. So many ways for a big criminal organisation to get one young man far from those who loved him, _fast. _ At least finding the vans would be a start.

Frank's gaze came to rest on a photograph of Joe on his father's desk. He had been getting some sports award and was smiling happily. _Joe. _Once upon a time he might have thought of his brother's actions as impulsive. But there was nothing impulsive about his decision. It was selfless and brave. Pride mixed with the feelings of terror and frustration doing battle in Frank's head. In the five minutes Joe was given, he had had the presence of mind to plant a tracker on himself, leave a hidden message and show them where it was. But they had been out-manoeuvred. They had lost him. They had failed him. Would Frank see his brother again? _Where was he_?

Fenton came off the phone and sat down beside Frank. He took a deep breath. 'It looks like there _is_ a leak somewhere in the Network. The hits on the Zeus targets are going ahead but the raids are being brought forward and the strategies changed slightly. If Gilchrist has been fed the details of the hits, hopefully the mole won't have time to disseminate the new arrangements. Everyone involved in the raids is being kept in groups, under surveillance, to limit the possibility and to try to identify the bastard who's talking to Gilchrist.' There was venom in Fenton's voice. He went on. 'The general consensus is that Zeus would want to get Joe into their home territory so they could… work with him…. at their leisure. It could be Joe's being taken to one of their main properties, probably New Mexico or Colombia, so there's a chance he'll be found during tonight's raids. '

Frank shook his head. 'Dad, that makes no sense. Why would they take him somewhere they knew was going to be raided?'

Fenton hesitated. 'I know what you're saying, Frank, but we don't really know what information Gilchrist has. It looks like he knows there's an investigation and that we're involved. However, there's no clear indication that he knows raids are imminent, let alone tonight. The Network are just taking every precaution.'

Frank looked doubtful.

'Meantime', said Fenton, 'we wait for Gilchrist to make his next move. He'll contact us before too long, no doubt demanding we sabotage the investigation or even call the raids off, if he does have wind of them.' Fenton was trying to sound confident but uncertainly tainted his voice.

Frank didn't reply. That wasn't what Gilchrist's note had said and they both knew it.

...

The rest of the day was a blur of police interviews, Network briefings and phone calls. Frank snatched every second he could to try to find traces of Gilchrist amongst Zeus' routine internet traffic. He found nothing.

There was no communication from Gilchrist- no demand to stop the raids, nothing.

In the evening, Frank and his father watched the live feeds from the various raids on the Zeus empire, hoping against hope that the next shot would be of Joe, maybe tied up and knocked about, but _alive. _But it didn't happen.

If Gilchrist had been tipped off about the raids, it didn't seem to have impacted significantly on the success of the operations. Arms and cash recovered. Multiple high profile arrests. Even some trafficked youngsters freed from the Colombian property, their young faces shocked and haunted. No one else would hurt them now. In different circumstances the Hardys would have been over the moon. But there was no sign of Joe and no sign of Gilchrist.

Frank stopped watching around midnight. He spent another hour or so online, rooting around. It was enough time to see that Zeus' non-automated online activity had gone completely dead from the moment the raids began. What remained would be shut down by the enforcement agencies.

Around 2am, Frank left his father watching the last of the feed from the raids- all the properties had been searched but Fenton couldn't pull himself away. Frank left the office and started driving, hoping to see _something_- one of the vans perhaps. Anything. He saw nothing.

Eventually, exhausted and distraught, Frank found himself pulling up outside his parents' house- their childhood home. He let himself into the handsome old building. The silence was deafening. He felt himself walk up to Joe's old bedroom. It was still full of his brother's things, although the fact Joe no longer lived here was attested to by the neatness of the room. Frank lay on Joe's old bed looking up at the pictures on his wall. God he missed him. What was he going through? What had they done to him? Was he scared? All the questions Frank hadn't been letting himself think about flooded out into his tired mind. He put his arm over his face and sobbed.


	5. Chapter 5

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 5- SIDE-LINED

Frank hadn't meant to fall asleep. He awoke on Joe's bed, disturbed by knocking. He gasped as the previous day's events flooded through his mind. He looked at his watch- 06.20. Frank jumped off the bed. What had he missed? At that moment, the knocking noise that had wakened him was repeated. He went over to Joe's window and looked down at the front of the house. Agent Gray was standing at the front door.

Gray was one of the Network's top men. He and the Hardys had a somewhat uneasy relationship that stemmed from the first case they had worked on together- the murder of Joe's girlfriend, Iola Morton, eight years earlier. They had gone on to work together many times over the years and had built up a kind of mutual respect. Gray had even tried to recruit the younger Hardys on more than one occasion- without success. The world The Network operated in was just not black-and-white enough for Frank and Joe. However, the benefits of co-operating to share skills, equipment and contacts in certain situations was certainly apparent and had served all concerned well.

Frank climbed down the stairs and opened the door to Gray. Frank stepped back to let him in, but Gray shook his head. 'Frank. I'm sorry to hear about what happened'. Frank nodded, finding himself unable to reply. 'I've just been briefing your father. He thought you'd be here and asked me to pick you up. I'll fill you in on the drive.'

'Give me a minute' Frank muttered, shutting the door on Gray. He went back to pick up his jacket, phone and keys. And to try to organise his thoughts. Why didn't his dad just phone him? He picked up his phone and dialled his father's cellphone, just to be sure. It went straight to his answering service. Frank frowned. He'd just have to go with it. For all they had never really trusted Gray, he seemed a little unlikely as the Network's mole. He opened the front door again 'let's go'.

….

Agent Gray drove in the direction of the Hardys offices.

Frank waited impatiently for him to speak. Eventually frustration got the better of him. 'Come on Gray, what have you got?' He growled, 'What do you know about Joe?'

Gray paused 'OK, we've some positive news. Both of the vans have been found by our operatives.'

'Where?!'

'A disused airstrip about 75 miles north of Bayport, just west of a town called Lettan. No sign of anyone. Clear indications of a light aircraft having landed recently'.

'Anything in the vans?'

'Burnt out. Both of them. Sorry Frank'

Frank closed his eyes. 'What else?'

'A small aircraft caught on radar briefly.' Said Gray. 'It must have been flying low but came up enough to be detected for a few miles. We've plotted potential destinations based on the trajectory.'

'If they stayed on course…'

'Yes. But we also have some new intelligence.'

'From?'

'From an undercover operative. You don't need to know more than that. Apparently Gilchrist upped sticks from the New Mexico property a week ago. They'd had no idea where he went. But now he's re-appeared in Colombia on a property that wasn't on our radar before. Somewhere 'rustic' in the department called Vaupés. It's in an area of rainforest. Runs off generators, no means of contact with the outside world. Gilchrist started moving his personal staff and equipment, on the quiet. _Before_ the raids were due to take place. He _did_ know about them.'

Frank was frowning deeply, trying to work out how they could have missed this. 'And could the plane have been going there?'

'The nearest landing strip we've been able to identify is on the trajectory so it's possible.'

For the first time in 14 hours, Frank felt a glimmer of hope. It was accompanied by a surge of adrenaline. He slapped the dashboard of Gray's car. 'We've got to go! We've got to get him out!' he exclaimed.

Gray glanced over at Frank. 'Your father has already gone.'

Frank's jaw dropped. 'He's what? Well, when do we join him?'

'Your father felt strongly that…well, that he doesn't want to lose two sons. I'm sorry Frank. I realise that's not what you want to hear. We took the decision that, with your obvious skills, you would be best utilised here. We need to find who's leaking intelligence to Gilchrist and _fast._'

Frank felt like the rug had been pulled out from underneath him. Ever since they'd failed to find Joe in that warehouse, Frank had felt like a passenger. The investigation had been out of his control. He'd listened to his father and listened to Network agents. He hadn't _done_ anything. And now, his father had left him behind, apparently for his own safety. He was furious! All he wanted to do was rescue his little brother and now it looked like they finally knew where he was, he'd been shut out. His father had no right to make that decision for him!

Seeing Frank was teetering on the edge of explosion, Gray jumped in. 'We have vital work for you to do. You can help us identify the mole. We have communication records between Zeus and our agency….' Frank eyebrows shot up. Could this get any worse? Gray went on 'legitimate ones. It's the nature of the business. But among them I would expect to find something. It's a big leap of faith to us, giving you access to this type of file. But you've proved yourself to be the best when it comes to extracting evidence from data. And the faster you find the mole, the more likely your father's mission is to succeed. The more likely they are to save Joe.'

'That's nothing but emotional blackmail, Gray! There's every chance that your mole isn't stupid enough to have left records of what he or she was doing.'

'This isn't a stab in the dark, Frank. We have our suspicions and we suspect the evidence may have been hidden in plain sight. Why go to the effort of having to try to cover your tracks when you're in a position to communicate legitimately?'

'Gray, if you think you know who it is, close them down. Worry about the evidence after. Don't risk my brother and my father's lives. _What's wrong with you people?_'

Gray shook his head. 'It's not as simple as that. Your father's operation is relying on continued intelligence and we have several operatives involved. We just can't do it, Frank. You need to narrow it down. I'm giving you all the communications data we have plus all the recorded movements we have of the relevant operatives. Use it and do your computer thing to see what else you can tie in.'

'Do your computer thing?' mimicked Frank 'What the hell is that meant to mean? Couldn't you be a bit more specific? This is bullshit, Gray!' He stopped, then asked in a calmer voice. 'Can you at least tell me what the plan is for getting Joe out?'

'I'm not party to that, Frank. It will involve a Network extraction team. Your father's role I couldn't comment on. Not as involved as he would like, I suspect. Please just believe that everything will be done that needs to be done, and it will be done right.'

'How can I believe that, Gray?' Frank yelled, infuriated with Gray's patronising dismissal. 'You've no idea who's on your side and who's not! You're an idiot if you think I'll believe that!'

Gray took a moment, then answered calmly and quietly. 'Then you should be happy your father has gone too.

At that moment they arrived outside the Hardy Detective Agency offices. Gray stopped the car. 'The files are on a datastick. I've taken the liberty of leaving it on your desk. Contact me on this number'- he handed Frank a card- 'as soon as you make any progress. Your brother's life could depend on it.'

'You're leaving? Where are you going, Gray?'

'Sorry Frank, I'm flying out of the country on another matter. I'll be in touch'

Frank shook his head in disgust. 'You're going to join the operation in Colombia, aren't you?'

'Frank, please just do the job. Oh, and don't tell the police about the progress we've made. They're better off chasing their tails around Bayport. They only get in the way.'

Frank climbed out of the car and watched as Gray sped off.

...

Frank sat at his desk in the family's offices. He was trying to concentrate on the data files in front of him. All he could think of was Joe. Frank could have kicked himself for falling asleep for two whole hours and cursed his father for not stopping to get him. He should have been on that rescue mission!

But what could he do? For all Frank recognised Gray's emotional blackmail for what it was, it didn't lessen its impact. Identify the mole or the rescue mission might be doomed to fail. Plus his curiosity was piqued- what sort of correspondence passed between the Network and Zeus? He shook his head, again reminded of the reasons the Hardys kept their distance from the agency.

Gray could have given him more help. The Network Agents were identified by codes, the communication formats were identified by codes and the messages themselves were encrypted. Great. Who knew what additional delay would be created by Gray's failure to provide him with proper information!

He scrolled slowly down a spreadsheet, his logical mind working through ways of using the data.

Before he got far, an email popped up in the Hardy Detective Agency business email box. It was from an address Frank recognised instantly- Gilchrist!


	6. Chapter 6

WARNINGS- VIOLENCE, SWEARING.

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 6 – A WINDOW INTO HELL

Frank's jaw dropped. He hardly dared to hope that Gilchrist might really be contacting them, maybe willing to negotiate for Joe's release. But he had to think carefully.

There was no subject heading and the email had an attachment. There was a fine chance it was a Trojan horse virus, set up to do any number of terrible things to whichever computer it was opened on, not to mention any others on the same network. But Frank couldn't leave it unopened.

Attempting some damage limitation, Frank hurriedly shut down and physically disconnected all the computers in the office. He then logged back on using his old laptop. He had removed virtually everything from it when he'd last updated his machine- a virus shouldn't cause too many problems.

Finally, hands shaking with anticipation, he clicked on the email.

_Hi Frank! _

_Guess you got left behind. Disappointing- I was hoping you'd come to the party. Here's an incentive for you to use your own initiative…. If you find your own way to Vaupés I might consider_ _changing my mind and let your brother live. If not…well, we'll keep treating him to our own, special, sort of hospitality and see what happens. See attached video for a taster- we've been having fun!_

_Hope to meet you soon,_

_Au revoir_

_Jason __J_

Feeling sick to his stomach, Frank clicked on the attachment- it appeared to be a zip file containing a video.

It took a minute to load. Frank held his breath.

The video opened with a general shot of a small, square room. It was apparently window-less and was lit by artificial light. The walls, ceiling and floors were covered in what must once have been white tiles. They were splattered with assorted stains. There was a drain in the centre of the floor. Against the far wall was a small table with an assortment of weapons and tools laid out on it. The intended function of the room was clear.

The camera then swung round to reveal what was behind it. Frank inhaled sharply 'Joe!' he gasped.

Joe's wrists were tied together and he was suspended from a hook on the ceiling by his bonds, his feet dangling clear of the ground. His ankles were also tied. He was clad only in boxer shorts, his muscular body glistening with sweat. His only injuries appeared to be a few bruises and a split lip, probably earned by a making a smart comment at the wrong moment.

Joe's expression was mutinous. There was no sign of fear.

A voice spoke suddenly. Frank and Joe jumped as if as one.

'Hello Hardys. I expect you want to thank me for releasing your womenfolk. I didn't need to. I am, however, a man of my word. Ok, that and the noise of women screaming really sets my teeth on edge. It just takes the fun out of torture! Simple as that! Now, to business. Perhaps you were hoping for a ransom demand or something. No. Thanks to you and your little 'team' it looks like I'm going to have to start my business venture over again. All I want you to do is watch this recording, that's it. Call it my revenge if you will.'

There was a pause. The camera zoomed in on Joe's face for a few seconds. He was glaring at Gilchrist, his piercing blue eyes icy and determined. A single bead of sweat ran from his forehead, down the side of his cheek. Frank could almost read his thoughts.

_My family are going to see this. They won't break me. Bring it on you bastards._

Then it began.

Two men, making no effort to conceal their identities, appeared from behind the camera. They walked over to the table. One selected a police-style baton and the other a taser. As they approached Joe, he twisted around as best he could and tried to kick out at them with his bound legs. The baton came down across his legs with a loud 'crack'. Joe grunted and pulled his legs back, but as he did so, the taser was jabbed into his side. He jerked violently, crying out in pain then swearing venomously. The pattern repeated. Baton then taser, baton then taser, always on his legs and body. Joe twisted to try to avoid the strikes. He kicked out and swore. He yelled in pain and anger.

After a full ten minutes, Gilchrist's voice 'take a break boys, good work'.

Frank's face was white. His breath was coming in short gasps. He was gripping the arms of his chair so tightly he had marked it with his nails. As his brother was assaulted he could almost feel every blow, every shock, as if it had happened to him. Frank wanted to kill those men. Not have them arrested and put in a nice comfortable prison. He actually wanted to kill them! He tried to make out Joe's face to see how he was holding up, how badly he'd been hurt.

Joe, swaying slightly in the air, was panting like he'd run a marathon. Sweat poured down his body, which was now marked by the bruising baton strikes. He seemed to be trying to lift his knees a little, probably trying to ease the tension on his abused chest and abdomen. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth and dripped down his chest- he must have bitten his tongue during the onslaught. But his expression was hard. Pained, exhausted, but still angry. It would take more than a couple of thugs to mess with Joe Hardy's head!

For the first time, the man himself appeared on the video. Gilchrist. Late 40's, tall, athletic, with receding black hair. Frank recognised him from surveillance stills they has been shown during the investigation. Gilchrist walked away from the camera towards Joe, put a hand up and stroked his cheek. Joe tried to pull his head back, a look of disgust on his face. Gilchrist turned and looked at the camera, dark eyes shining. Amused.

'My, he's feisty isn't he?! I think we need to knock some of that bravado out of him, don't you? Hmmm, well we have some frustrated men here on my payroll who haven't had a woman for some time.' Something flickered in Joe's expression. Then the angry mask slipped back into place. Gilchrist continued. 'Joseph is a good-looking young man. I like to be good to my men.'

'No.' said Frank, shaking his head. 'No!' He stood up and screamed at the screen 'No! _Gilchrist you're a dead man_!'

...

Hi all. Going to up the rating to an M- it's all about to get a bit messy. Story may disappear depending on your filter settings.

...


	7. Chapter 7

A TANGLED WEB

WARNINGS- SWEARING, VIOLENCE, REFS TO SERIOUS SEXUAL ASSAULT.

CHAPTER 7- BACK TO BASICS

Frank's hands gripped his desk. He was so horrified and nauseated he found he couldn't move. Silent tears flowed down his cheeks as he screamed inside for his baby brother.

After Gilchrist's last words…'_I like to be good to my men…'_ Frank had stopped the video, not knowing if he could continue watching. He was afraid of what he might see. He was afraid of what it might do to him. And he knew he was playing Gilchrist's game by watching. But then he had realised that he had to. For Joe. Frank did _not_ want to see his brother in pain, abused and suffering. But nor did he want Joe to go through it alone. He had to be there for him, in some way. And there always the hope that something would be said or done that would give him some information that would help his father find Joe.

He had hit 'play' again, mentally bracing himself. Frank had watched, helpless, as Joe was cut down then immediately floored by the two men, pinned face down on the ground. The camera was then repositioned to show a tight angle on Joe's face. He had tried to turn away from the camera, but was dragged up by his hair. Gilchrist could be seen, out of focus in the background, unzipping his fly. There was no avoiding Joe's expressions of pain and anguish as he was assaulted. A boot had then kicked him in the face and left him unconscious.

And now Frank was trapped in some kind of hell. He screwed his eyes shut as his mind replayed images of Joe's face as he fought and suffered, over and over. Frank sobbed wretchedly. He yelled in frustration and stood up, knocking his chair over. He punched the wall beside his desk, again and again, so hard his knuckles bled. Then he swore and knelt on the floor, defeated. Frank wanted to run to the airport and jump on a plane. He wanted to go so much it hurt! He wanted to save Joe, to hold him and tell him those men wouldn't hurt him again. And he wanted to find those men and kill them!

But _what could he do?_

He would just have to trust father and the Network team to get Joe out of that hellhole. Taking a deep breath, he tried to get his mind to work, tried to temporarily banish the images of his brother's torture from his head. He tried to think constructively.

Frank let his logical mind run through the new information he had, almost on autopilot. If he could stop his head spinning, he would start to dig back through the familiar maze of IP addresses that the email had undoubtedly been passed along. It would be something. Presumably, all roads would lead to Vaupés, but it always paid to be thorough. But how was Gilchrist sending emails from his 'low-tech retreat'? Satellite broadband? Maybe…

He now knew Gilchrist was so confident in his security he felt he didn't have to hide his name, his link to Zeus, his location or his crimes. And he didn't seem worried that law-enforcement personnel were on their way to his apparently secret base in Vaupés. Was he completely insane? Was it an elaborate trap?

He knew what the room where they were holding Joe looked like. He knew there were at least three men, including Gilchrist, involved with holding Joe captive. Presumably there would be many more on the property.

And he knew that Gilchrist not only knew about the rescue mission, but that Frank had been left behind. Where could that have come from? A good number of Network people could have known that by know, he realised. But it showed the mole was working actively, effectively and fast.

He knew Gilchrist wanted him in Vaupés too. It made no sense for Gilchrist to offer to spare Joe if Frank went along too- all he was interested in was revenge, not bargaining. Why would he say that? Did he know that Frank was tasked with trying to identify the mole? Did he want to distract him, slow him down? He'd certainly done that!

At that moment, Frank's computer made a noise- another email had been received.

Gilchrist.

Frank picked up his chair and sat down. This time he opened the message without hesitation. There was another video attached. 'Oh God, no.' Frank whispered. He opened the email.

_Hi again!_

_Twice in one day…. people will talk! Shouldn't you be booking a plane ticket or something, Frank? Tick-tock! _

_Au revoir_

_Jason x_

'How the hell did he know I was still here!?' thought Frank. He looked around, half expecting to see someone watching him. What was going on?

With a great deal of trepidation, Frank downloaded the zip file and started the video.

Joe was lying unrestrained on the floor of the cell. His new injuries told a story. Some time must have elapsed between the filming of the two videos. Time during which Joe had not been left in peace. His face was now partially masked with blood from a deep cut across the right side of his forehead. His right forearm was swollen and coloured in shades of blue and black… a fracture? There were small round marks on his chest- cigarette burns.

Now he appeared to be either unconscious or asleep. Gilchrist's thugs walked up to him quietly and pinned him down on his back, one on each side, before he could have a chance to react. Joe was instantly alert and struggled violently in spite of his injuries. 'Get off me! Get off me, you dirty bastards! I'm going to fucking kill you, I'll kill you!' Joe sounded weaker and there was a slight hitch to his voice betraying the emotional strain. But he was still fighting. Anger was still winning over fear. '_Go, Joe'_ thought Frank, in genuine awe of his brother's resilience.

'Now, Joseph's about to become a bit of a pioneer. He'll be at the forefront of scientific experimentation. I've been developing a drug intended as a punishment.' Gilchrist waved a syringe in front of the camera. 'It's not a sedative, not a truth serum. It. Just. Hurts. We've not managed to make Joe scream yet. He's just shouted at us. It's plain rude! However, this will sort the problem. Let's watch him scream!'

While Joe was restrained on the floor, Gilchrist walked over, crouched down and then stabbed the needle into his neck. Frank winced. Joe gasped.

'Now' said Gilchrist 'just sit back and enjoy the ride. And don't worry- there's plenty more where that came from!'

Within seconds, Joe's body started to jerk convulsively. The thugs let go and stood back. Then Joe started to scream as the stuff coursed through his body. Blood-curdling, agonised screams.

Frank ran to the bathroom and vomited, then fell to his knees, shaking. He had to stop this, _now._

'Enough!' he yelled. 'Gilchrist, you bastard, I'm coming to get you!'

Frank staggered back through to his office. The video had finished.

He got out his credit card and booked a seat on the next available flight for Bogota, Colombia, leaving in two hours. He'd figure out how to get to Vaupés when he got to Colombia. He'd figure out where the retreat was when he got to Vaupés.

He emailed the receipt for his flight to Gilchrist with the message;

_You win. On my way. Please leave him alone. I'll do what you ask._

_…__._

Frank packed hurriedly. Laptop, wallet, passport, cellphone, chargers. He'd try to keep working on Gray's data en-route. He picked up his jacket and took three steps towards the office door. Then he froze. Something stopped him. Something wasn't right. He turned, went back to his desk, sat down and took out his laptop again. He booted it up, found the first video that Gilchrist had sent and opened it. Steeling himself, he scrolled through it until he got to the part when Joe was being pinned down by the two thugs in preparation for Gilchrist's sexual assault.

And there it was. A detail that had been filed in his mind without him having been conscious of seeing it. Thug # 1's big, cheap, digital watch. It was strapped to his right wrist. The man had his body weight across Joe's right shoulder and arm. His left hand was in Joe's hair, pulling his face up for the camera. His right hand, balled into a fist, was under Joe's chin, forcing it up. His watch faced the camera. It was upside-down but clear, front and centre. The date; yesterday- the day Joe was kidnapped. The time; 14.30 – _one hour after he was kidnapped_.

There was no way Joe could have been in Colombia when that video was recorded! It must be a 5 hour flight away at the very least, more in a small aircraft. Gray had said the airfield where the vans had been found was 75 miles away from Bayport. 75 miles. In a transit? Surely at least an hour's drive. And the moment when he'd seen the watch was nearly 15 minutes in to the horrific, sick video. Impossible. Joe could never even have been to the _airfield_.

On a whim, he copied the IP address connected to the email into his easy IP finder app, knowing it shouldn't work correctly given the methods Gilchrist used to cover his tracks. The finder produced a map showing where the email had been sent from within seconds. A 20 mile radius from the centre of Bayport. It was probably wrong. But could it be right?

Frank sat back in his chair, disbelief written across his face, as the facts started to fall in to place. Joe hadn't been spirited off to Colombia. He was close by. 45 minutes from his own apartment at the most. The email really _had _been sent from the Bayport area. All the information Gray had was wrong. The Network's intelligence had fallen into complete disarray for reasons he had no time to fathom. And Gilchrist? Gilchrist was _here_. He was doing nothing but playing twisted, controlling games, sending Joe's would-be rescuers on a wild goose chase to the rainforests of Colombia courtesy of his Network connections and a couple of strategically placed burnt-out vans. Whether he was feeding his Network moles misinformation or they were complicit in the deceit, the effect was the same.

And now Frank knew what he had to do. Finding the mole could wait for another day as long as _no-one_ in The Network knew what he was on to the Vaupés angle being a ruse. That would have to include his father- he was in Network company. Now, he had to find out if he was being followed by Gilchrist and his men, and he had to FIND JOE.

But where to start? Frank's mind suddenly ground to a halt. Horrendous images of the abuse his brother had suffered at the hands of Gilchrist flashed though his head again. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, fighting for control. He won. The tables had turned. Frank Hardy was in control of himself and in control of the investigation. Determination flooded through him. He was going to get his brother back. He _had_ to.

'Right Frank' he said to himself. 'Go back to the beginning. First physical contact between our family and Zeus. The alleyway beside the French restaurant.' Something else clicked in Frank's mind. A niggling little connection.

Where had the whole thing started to go wrong? The alley beside the new French restaurant. Zeus had a base in France. Gilchrist's note and emails had been signed off_ 'Au revoir_.' None of them had thought anything of it. It was a commonly understood French phrase. Its use hadn't seemed significant. Could Gilchrist have been laughing at them, dangling a clue in front of their faces…?

Frank snorted. No way could it be that obvious, no way. Tenuous didn't even touch it. Most likely coincidental. Then he thought of all the cases he and Joe had solved in their teens, before they'd known what an IP address was. All the break-throughs they had made checking out tenuous links and gut feelings. Did Gilchrist have some connection with the new restaurant? Could he, and maybe even Joe, be here in the centre of Bayport right under their noses?

He couldn't quite believe it could be so. But he couldn't dismiss it without checking.

Frank picked up his phone, contemplating contacting the police. Frank trusted Collig. But he knew the police were still out doing their best searching for Joe- they hadn't been party to the Network information or the discovery of the vans. Until he could narrow down where Joe could be, there was no new information to give them. He certainly wasn't sure enough about his hunch to go as far as to tell Collig about the French restaurant. He would check it out, then go and see Collig in person.

Frank put his jacket on and set out on foot.


	8. Chapter 8

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 8- GUT FEELING

Two taxi rides later, Frank was in Berkley Street, home of _Le Porte Bonheur_. For all it was only ten minutes from the office, Frank wanted to go through the motions of going for his flight to Colombia.

He had a strong suspicion he was being tailed. It could have been that his credit card transactions were being monitored. Gilchrist could had guessed Frank hadn't booked himself a plane ticket when he saw there had been no activity on his accounts. It was the group's specialist area, after all. But now he knew the vestiges of Zeus were active in Bayport and they knew too much about what he was doing. He couldn't take any chances.

Frank had hailed a cab go to the airport. Once there he had found himself a new jacket (stolen in the men's room- not good- but he had left his own, more expensive coat in place of the parka he had procured). He then hurried, hood up and hunched over, to the nearest available cab to head back into town. The driver was happy to accept the extra fare resulting from taking a roundabout route. Someone might have been tailing him to the airport, the roads had been too busy for him to be sure. But he was damn sure no one had followed him away from the airport.

Frank bought himself a coffee and a newspaper and sat in the window seat of a coffeehouse. His vantage point was on the opposite side of Berkley Street from the French restaurant and about 50 yards further down the road. He had a clear view of both of the doors into it. The front entrance was off Berkley Street itself. The second, a smaller side entrance, opened onto the alleyway from where the girls had been kidnapped the day before.

One thing was noticeable. The place was shut. Yesterday they had been serving lunches to the public at this time, but now the doors remained firmly closed. That could easily be co-incidence, he told himself. Frank sat at the window for almost an hour, putting away 3 cups of coffee. He saw nothing and nobody. Impatient, he decided on a change of tack. He needed to get inside.

He walked past the restaurant, once again thankful that the drizzly fall afternoon made it possible to wear the hood of his parka up without it seeming out of place. He glanced as best he could in the windows as he went past. He took advantage of a menu positioned in one window to stop and have a good look in. The premises were in darkness. There was no sign of life.

After pretending to study the menu for a minute or two, Frank started walking casually back the way he came. As he passed the front door, he reached into his pocket, pretending his cellphone was ringing. He pulled out his phone and ducked into the recessed doorway as though seeking shelter. He stood in the doorway at an angle, phone to his ear, and started a non-descript one sided conversation. Surreptitiously, he reached out with the hand closest to the door. He tried the handle. Locked. He finished his fake phone call, tucked his phone away and walked on. This time he turned down the alley at the side of the restaurant. He glanced round. Berkley Street was relatively busy, but there was no one in the alley. No one seemed to be looking his way. As he reached the door, he just went for it, turning the door handle as if he owned the place. And the door opened! It wasn't locked! 'Too easy….' he thought. Taking a mental note to let the management know their security was lax should his hunch turn out to be unfounded, Frank went in.

There was no sign of life. Frank paused just inside the door and scanned the room. The layout inside was basic. Both doors opened onto the same open-plan dining area. He could see no CCTV cameras. Surely, if Gilchrist was here, he'd have _some_ security measures in place… Frank counted five internal doors, grouped together in the back left corner of the premises. The doors were helpfully labelled; GENTS, LADIES, STAIRS UP, STAIRS DOWN and PRIVATE.

Frank walked silently over to the doors. After a brief look in the toilets, he stood in front of the remaining doors. 'Private'. That had to be next on the list. He listened for a moment then, sinking slightly into a defensive stance, he pushed the door open.

There was a sparsely furnished office inside. A desk, a chair and a desktop computer. The display showed the feed from two CCTV cameras, one covering each door onto the street. There must have been covert cameras outside. He was lucky there had been no one in the office to see his approach. Could someone be monitoring the feed from elsewhere in the building? Yes. Frank filed the information and pressed on, undeterred.

'Which door next? Up or down' he asked himself silently. 'Down. Bad guys and basements just seem to go together'.

He opened the 'Stairs Down' door a crack. The stair light was on. He could see a door directly opposite the bottom of the stairs marked 'KITCHEN'. A corridor appeared to extend to the left. Frank crept down the stairs. He froze outside the kitchen door, hearing a noise. A voice. He couldn't make out what was said. He listened for a second and, hearing no more, turned to go along the corridor. The lights were off. The light from the stairs illuminated enough of it to show four doors, two on each side. The far end of the corridor was concealed in shadows.

Frank tried the first door on the left. It proved it be a large, walk-in cupboard stocked with cleaning products and equipment. The next door revealed a storeroom full of spoiling food (yuk- not such a fancy place after all!). He was about to shut the door and move on when he heard raised voices coming from the kitchen and footsteps approaching the door. Frank ducked into the food store and pulled the door to. He left a tiny gap and spied out of it.

Unable to make out words, he tried to count the voices. Two- no three, all male. Then he heard the kitchen door open then slam shut again. He held his breath. A large, dark haired man walked out of the kitchen towards the stairs. He turned his head slightly, glancing down the corridor, as he walked. Frank saw his face and nearly went down on his knees. It was one of the men who had brutally assaulted Joe! His hunch had been right!

Frank's heart was beating so loudly he thought someone might hear it. What should he do? Get out of there and call for backup was the sensible answer. Collig and his men could be there in minutes. But Frank couldn't leave. He had to look for Joe. If there was any chance he was here, he had to _find him._

Frank waited a minute to see if anyone else was moving around. Thug 1 had gone off up the stairs. He had heard the door at the top of the stairs slamming shut. Now, there was silence. Frank came out of his hiding place and pressed on down the hall. Adrenaline was now coursing through his body. He forced himself to keep his movements steady, silent. The next door along was locked. Frank hesitated. Could this be it? He pulled his house keys out of his pocket. Attached to the key ring was his lock-picking tool. It was CIA issue and had been procured somehow by Joe as a present for Frank a few years back. It had yet to let him down.

Frank placed the parallel ends of the tool in the key hole, adjusted the tension settings and turned his hand. There was a 'click'. It had worked. The door was thicker and heavier than he had expected. He pushed it open a crack and peered in. A cold store. Frank recoiled as the clinging stench of death hit him unexpectedly. His stomach in knots, he stepped into the room, looking for the source of the smell. Meat hung from hooks suspended from the ceiling. But he knew it wasn't the smell of bad meat. The smell of decaying human flesh is distinct and unforgettable. Frank had experienced it more than his fair share of times.

Frank pushed the door shut behind him, careful to check he would be able to open it again. He found the light switch and flicked it on. He inhaled sharply, then gagged and covered his nose with his hand. There were three bodies in the room, as far as he could tell. It was a guess as they hadn't been carefully placed, but rather dumped together in a pile against the far wall. A blanket had been tossed casually over the pile, but mis-matched feet, a hand and the top of a head stuck out. Dark liquid oozed out from underneath the blanket. Frank walked straight up to them, not willing to believe for a second that Joe could be in that pile and determined to prove that fact to himself. He stopped. The hair on the head was blond. It was partially matted with congealed blood. But it was _blond._

Frank crouched down and yanked the blanket back, _knowing _it wasn't Joe. It couldn't be Joe, he wouldn't _let _it be Joe!

And he almost collapsed with relief. It really wasn't Joe! It was someone a bit older, a bit different. Someone else's brother. Someone else's son. Frank stood up, whipping the rest of the blanket away. Body 2- bald. Body 3- dark hair. Not Joe. Not Joe. He replaced the blanket and turned away, not needing to know any more.

Frank carefully, silently, let himself out of the room and re-secured it. He glanced further up the hall, eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. Then he saw it. At the end of the hall was a large door. Bolted. From the outside. Frank's heart beat faster. His mouth went dry. It was a modern door. A soundproofed door. It looked for all the world like a cell door. Could this be where they were holding Joe? He hardly dared hope.

Frank tiptoed to the door. 'If the bolt is drawn shut the bad guys can't be inside' he thought logically. He slid the bolt back as quietly as he could and opened the door just a tiny crack. He peered in. Stain-splattered white tiles. Artificial light. A table. His heart was in his mouth. Trembling with adrenaline and fear, he pushed the door open.….

And there he was! Lying on the floor. Joe! Battered, bloody, naked, pale…..dead?

Frank pushed the door shut behind him then threw himself down beside Joe. Reaching out gently with a shaking hand, he touched his neck. A pulse! Faint, thready, but there! And shallow breaths to match. He was alive! Frank let himself breathe again. Keeping his hand on Joe, he shut his eyes for a second, silently thanking whoever might be listening with all his heart. But he couldn't afford to let his concentration lapse. He had to think fast.

If any of the bad guys came into the hall and switched on the light they might see the bolt was undone. He wasn't armed. He cursed himself for not having more confidence in his old-fashioned hunch. He should have brought a weapon. What was he thinking!? What should he do?

Frank assessed his options.

Option-1. Leave Joe, bolt door, get out if possible, phone Collig.

Option 2- Stay here with Joe, phone Collig, hope no one notices bolt.

Option 3- Get Joe the hell out of here.

He looked at his phone. No reception. Option 2 was out. Option 1 was a non-starter. Option 3 was the winner! It was far from ideal. Joe shouldn't be moved. Who knew what injuries he had? And had Thug 1 left the building when he went upstairs or was he still about, cutting off potential escape? Frank felt his blood rise at the thought of getting to lay his hands on that man. He would pay for what he and the others had done to Joe! But Frank's priority had to be protecting his injured brother. He would have to try to sneak them out if he could. He didn't want risk any further injury to Joe.

He touched his brother's battered face tenderly. 'Joe?' he whispered 'we're going to try to get out of here. Just keep quiet and we'll be fine.' There was no reaction. Frank checked his pulse again. Still there. Frank got to his feet and heaved Joe up into a fireman's lift, holding on to his least damaged arm. He went back to the door and listened. Pointless. Soundproof. He would have to take a chance. He opened it a crack. Nothing. He opened it all the way. Still nothing. In fact, the smell of food was wafting from that closed kitchen door. The bad guys were having chilli. Frank carried his lifeless brother through the door, turned and drew the bolt shut, then began to creep back along the passageway.

They had almost made it past the cupboard filled with cleaning equipment when the upstairs door opened again. 'Shit!' thought Frank, and ducked back into the cupboard, closing the door gently. Thug 1 stormed down the stairs and tore open the kitchen door. The bad guys started to argue again. This time there was no mistaking what was being said.

'I just saw a fucking cop car go by.'

'So? They've no idea!'

'Why can't we just kill him? This is fucking stupid. The longer we site here like pricks, playing with the poor bastard, the more likely we are to get caught. I wish we'd just gone on the plane with Dave when we had the chance.'

'What the hell is wrong with you? How often do you get a chance to do these kinds of things to someone like him? Like never. I want to see if he can still scream.'

Frank bit his lip, _hard_, focusing all his attention on not blowing it by storming over to the kitchen and trying to kill someone. Those _bastards_.

'No, let's just stick a few bullets in him then get the hell out of here. We've made our point.'

A third voice. Gilchrist's. Quiet. _Angry._ 'And just when the hell did you two pricks get to start deciding _ANYTHING_. Remember your place or I'll kill you myself. Joseph stays until he dies. And he dies when and how _I _decide.'

His men must have backed down rapidly. Gilchrist went on, tempering his tone into something a touch more…smug. 'At least he _wants_ to die now. It was hard work getting there. But so worth it! Oh to see Fenton's face when sees his precious boy with that gun! Right now, Gray's got them heading for an unpleasant, insect-ridden corner of Colombia. Gullible, stupid fools. When they find out Joseph was in Bayport the whole time, it will add a little _je ne sais quoi_ to the whole thing, don't you think?! '

'When I was told the other brother was being left behind in Bayport I was _not _happy! But I sent him scurrying to join the others before he had a chance to work out what was going on. That will give us enough time to finish the job here at our leisure. '

'Anyway, right now I want to eat my meal and have a glass of wine. Once I've done that, I'm think I'm going to get my knife out and cut some pretty little patterns on his face. Don. You're pissing me off. You can eat upstairs. Go. And make sure you've locked the doors this time!'

Frank blinked back the sweat that was falling in his eyes, mind in overdrive. Joe had had a _gun_? What had happened? He put it out of his head, focusing on the job in hand. Thug 1, aka Don, was going to be eating upstairs. The door he had come into the restaurant through would now be locked. Their escape would be blocked. He _would_ have to fight his way out if they went up the stairs. He looked at his phone. One bar of reception! He looked around the room. Shelves, cupboards, cleaning implements. As gently as he could, he laid Joe down on the floor, again feeling for that reassuring pulse. Then he started barricading Joe and himself into the little room.


	9. Chapter 9

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 9- HIDE!

Chief Collig was in a meeting at Bayport Police Headquarters. He felt his cellphone vibrate and took a surreptitious look. A text from Frank Hardy.

_Backup now, Porte Bonheur. Found Joe. Trapped in basement. At least 3 targets. Help. RSVP_

Collig stood up so fast his chair went over. The other officers in the room gasped. Collig ignored them as he replied to the text.

_On way._

Then he ran, grabbing his personal radio as he went.

...

Frank had done what he could. He had quietly stacked every bit of furniture he could move behind the cupboard door, contacted the cavalry then armed himself with a wooden mop handle. There was no way out for them. He would have to hope the police arrived before Gilchrist noticed Joe had gone. Or before they needed a mop.

Finally Frank felt he could do what he'd wanted to do from the first second had seen his brother lying on that floor. He took off his jacket, sank down beside Joe and covered his naked body, giving him back his dignity. He stroked Joe's cheek tenderly, his eyes dwelling on his unconscious brother's injuries. He leant forwards and kissed his forehead.

'I'm here Joe, if those bastards want to hurt you again, they'll have to come through me' he whispered.

He allowed himself to revel in the moment, resting his forehead against Joe's for a few seconds. Relief, tension, anger and fear swam round his mind. What had Gilchrist meant by Joe being ready to die and him having had a gun? Frank's hand stayed on Joe's neck, feeling that pulse. He closed his eyes, made himself breathe deeply and slowly began to regain control of his heaving emotions.

Frank looked back down at Joe, a lump formed in his throat. He looked like he was dying, fading away before his eyes. Frank longed for those blue eyes to flutter open. He longed for Joe to know he was with him. But he knew Joe was better unconscious until he could be filled with pain-killing drugs. He didn't try to bring him round. He didn't really think he'd be able to. Joe's pulse was still weak, his breathing was still shallow. He had to be in shock from loss of blood and dehydration.

Frank didn't know how long they could be there. He needed to take stock of Joe's injuries and see what, if anything, he could do. Thankful for the front line first aid course he'd selected as his own 'break' from the investigation, he began a gentle 'top-to-toe' examination of his brother. He moved the jacket around as he worked to keep as much covered as possible.

Head- bruises, cuts, jaw swollen but not dislocated. No soft spots in the skull. Neck…side- multiple needle punctures. Not good. Neck and upper back- no obvious fractures or deviations (just as well after he'd been moved from his cell in such a crude manner!) Front- extensive bruising. Baton marks. Boot marks. Cigarette burns. The four or five ribs on his left side looked not quite right. Fractured? Arms- more cuts. These ones were small and precise- inflicted slowly and deliberately. Also bruising plus more injection sites. Right arm.. Joe's forearm was horribly swollen and coloured dark blue and red, although it seemed stable. Possible fracture. Groin and legs- bruising, cuts and abrasions. Feet- marks from baton strikes.

Frank paused for a moment, mentally steadying himself again. He gently manoeuvred Joe into the recovery position so he could check his back. Among the marks that matched those on Joe's front were bite marks. _Bite marks_. And dried blood from the assault Frank had been hoping he dreamt.

Trying retain perspective and not allow himself to get overwhelmed, Frank made himself go through the injuries in his head, putting them in order of clinical importance.

1. Potentially the injections. What's he been given and is that why he's unconscious?

2. Fractures- ribs and arm. Possible associated internal bleeding. Risk of creating further instability if moved. Risk of ribs puncturing lung (lucky I carried him right side down. Damn lucky, Frank added to himself).

3. Internal damage due to, well due to any number of horrendous things that had been done to his little brother.

He needed fluids, fast, to give him a chance of fighting back. He needed a hospital.

At that moment, a muffled explosion came from upstairs. The police! Collig must have thrown caution to the wind to be here already and to launch a direct attack- only 20 minutes had passed since Frank had sent the text. Frank heard shouting and gunfire being exchanged. Chairs were knocked over and guns cocked across the hall in the kitchen.

All Frank's attempts at keeping calm and objective went out the window. He sat down on the floor as far from the barricaded door as he could and pulled Joe gently on to his lap, keeping the injured arm across Joe's body. He lowered his cheek on top of Joe's head and started to rock gently, long arms wrapped around his injured brother. He shut his eyes and prayed.

…

It felt like the firefight went on for hours. It was probably 10 minutes.

Frank heard Gilchrist shout 'get Hardy- we need a hostage'. He held his breath, knowing the door of Joe's former cell was being opened…..

'_What the f…' _ Gilchrist screamed. '_find him, NOW!'_

Frank could hear doors in the corridor being torn open. Then somebody tried their cupboard. '_IN HERE_!' a voice yelled. The door, and the barricade, started shaking as someone's body weight was thrown repeatedly against it.

Frank gently laid Joe back down on the floor and picked up his mop handle. He stood facing the door in a fighting stance, Joe behind him. He was ready to defend his brother to the last if Gilchrist got through. 'Come on, Collig.' Frank murmured.

There was another 'crash'- it sounded close. The stair door?

Frank heard shouted warnings from the police, then shots being exchanged. Another crashing door, more gunfire. An anguished scream. Then…silence. Broken by Collig's voice. 'Secure the floor, secure the floor!' The sound of doors crashing open, heavy feet running. More shouted warnings from different voices. An exclamation from the room next door. 'We've got bodies, sir!'

'Shit, is it them?' from Collig. More shouting.

Then the mop cupboard door was hit. 'This one's barricaded, sir'.

Collig's voice yelled 'Stop!' There was a pause. Then Collig spoke again, a little quieter. Gentler. 'Frank? Joe? Where are you? Are you okay?'

Frank found his voice. 'Chief?'

'Frank. Three suspects neutralised, premises secured throughout. You can come out, son.'

It was over. It took Frank a moment to accept it, then he started tearing apart the barricade. He opened the door. Chief Collig was standing outside with what appeared to be a small army of officers clad in riot gear poised for action beside him. Frank and Collig stood eye to eye.

'Are they dead?' Frank asked, his face expressionless.

'They're dead.'

'Good. Saves me a job. I need an ambulance for Joe, Chief.'

Frank walked back into the cupboard and crouched down beside the prone body of his brother, putting a protective hand on his chest.

'There's one outside. I'll have them sent in. You've done good Frank. I don't know how the hell you got here, but my god you've done good!'

Frank didn't reply. His burning need to kill Gilchrist and his henchmen was gone. Not sated, just faded into irrelevance now they were dead by someone else's hand. All that mattered was Joe. He needed Joe to live.


	10. Chapter 10

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 10- BREAKING JOE

Frank sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was beside his brother's bedside in Bayport General, exhausted and emotionally spent.

Collig and his team, now joined by the inevitable intelligence agencies, were still tearing _Le Porte Bonheur_ apart. They had recovered two bodies in addition to those Frank had found. Who they were and why they were there no one yet knew. But they had met violent deaths. Tortured and then shot in the head as, no doubt, Joe would have been. Frank had given the briefest of statements to Collig whilst Joe was being assessed at the hospital, then refused to speak to anyone else. He needed to be with his brother.

Four hours had passed since they had arrived at the hospital. Joe had been x-rayed, scanned, cleaned, stitched, swabbed, bandaged and had his arm put in a cast. He still hadn't woken up.

Joe had been tortured for the best part of 24 hours. He'd suffered multiple cuts, bruises and burns. He had broken ribs, a fractured arm and a chip out of his left femur. Gilchrist and his men had even extracted two of his back molars (Frank hadn't spotted that. Next time he did a top-to-toe examination, he'd thought miserably, he would remember to look in the casualty's mouth). And then there were the messy things, the ones with the potential to have long term effects- multiple injections of unidentified substances and sexual assault. Either could have resulted in Joe being infected with a range of hideous diseases for which he would have to be tested over time. And as for the psychological effects…that remained to be seen.

Frank had been assured Joe _was _likely to wake up. Miraculously, he hadn't suffered any significant internal injuries. His fractured arm hadn't needed re-aligned or pinned. He hadn't had to undergo any operations. As fluids and antibiotics entered his depleted, abused system, his vitals had stabilised and were becoming stronger. His responses were normal.

Vials of the substances used on him had been found in the basement of _Le Porte Bonheur. _Samples had been sent to the hospital lab in the hope of helping to find out what, if any, long term damage might have been caused. The short term effect seemed to be sedation. Frank had asked if there was the possibility of any brain damage, but the doctors couldn't answer him. They were now playing a waiting game.

Frank fiddled with his cellphone. He had tried his father again with no luck, but had left a message for him to call. He hoped vehemently nothing had happened to him. He'd been so focused on finding Joe he'd blanked out the possibility. But his father was probably still in the Colombian rainforest with Network Agents, one or more of whom could be on the wrong side. Frank couldn't get Gilchrist's reference to Gray out of his head.

_'__Right now, Gray's got them heading for an unpleasant, insect-ridden corner of Colombia.' _

Surely the mole couldn't be Gray? The implication was there but it was far from conclusive.

Collig had made arrangements to have Callie, Vanessa and Laura returned to Bayport. The safe-house they had been moved to, as it turned out, had been out of state, several hours drive away. The police hadn't been messing around when they were relocated. They would be back early the next morning. Frank had spoken to Callie on the phone. He'd discovered he didn't know what to tell her. He'd settled on saying they were both safe but Joe had been knocked about and hadn't come round yet. And he'd told her that he missed her. Boy, did he miss her!

At that moment, Frank's phone rang. His father's number flashed up on the screen. Frank felt a wave of relief wash over him.

'Dad? You OK?'

'Yes…..but Frank I'm so sorry. We haven't found him. We got to the property but there was nothing there. The intel was bad. I…'

Frank cut him off 'He's here, Dad. I found him. He was in Bayport.' His tone was tired, far from elated.

Silence. Then '_What?'_

'You have to get back here. They hurt him.'

'What happened Frank? What's going on? Will he be OK?'

'I don't know. Dad, who are you with?'

'Just Gray.'

'Dad. I think he might be the mole.'

Silence.

'Gilchrist knew _everything _that Gray knew. And he mentioned him.'

'Is he in custody?' asked Fenton.

'No. Dead. The men he had here too. The ones we know about, anyway.'

'Leave it with me'. And just like that, Fenton Hardy hung up.

Sighing, Frank put down his phone. He looked down at the laptop by his chair. Collig and his men had recovered it from the kitchen in the restaurant, sitting open beside a half-eaten plate of chilli. It was most likely Gilchrist's. Collig had asked him to see if he could get into it. He had no doubt that he could, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to. The information on it could be priceless. But the chances were Gilchrist had used this laptop to send Frank those emails. It could even have been the laptop's built-in webcam that had recorded what they had done to Joe. It could all be on here. The unedited version. Why bother? The bad guys were dead. Joe was safe. Why put himself through it?

He already knew why. There were two good reasons to get in to that laptop, and fast. Firstly, there might be something on it that would confirm the identity of the mole. Secondly and more importantly, for all Frank had saved Joe he was terrified that his work wasn't yet done. Gilchrist's comments came back to him- Joe had _wanted_ to die. He had had a gun…? Had Joe been so messed up by the sexual assault that he couldn't go on? Frank found that hard to believe. It had been horrific, but Joe was the strongest person he knew. If anyone could come to terms with something like that, he could. And, in the video shot after the assault, Joe had still been fighting like a demon. Could those agonising injections have been the last straw? Or had Gilchrist done more to him?

So Frank knew he _had_ to look to see if Gilchrist had recorded more. Because Frank had to understand what else had happened to Joe so he would know what best to do, best to say, when he came round.

He could put it off no longer. Frank flipped open the laptop and placed it on the little table beside him. He got past its security in ten minutes flat and found the files in another two.

There were the first two- the horror shows he had watched in the family office. Gilchrist had imaginatively entitled them 'Mr Hardy's stay at Hotel Zeus'.

There were four more.

Stalling, Frank let himself into Gilchrist's email account to see who else might have been sent images of Joe's plight. No-one, assuming this was the only account he had used for the purpose.

He went back to the file manager. Frank paused and looked over at his brother's battered body, reminding himself why he had to do this. Then he fished some headphones out of his bag, plugged them in and began to watch.

…

_Mr Hardy's stay at Hotel Zeus 3._

Gilchrist face appeared in shot, speaking to the camera. 'Well he's had…oooh, six doses I think? Let's see if he's ready to beg yet. I love that.'

Joe was sitting on a chair, tied to the chair arms by his wrists and elbows. He looked very weak and barely conscious, eyes half shut. 'Do you want another shot of your medicine, Joseph?' Gilchrist said in a sing-song voice. Joe mumbled an unintelligible response. 'Joseph, you'll have to speak up.' Gilchrist leant towards him. Joe spoke quietly. What he said wasn't picked up by the computer, but it had an immediate effect on Gilchrist. He punched Joe in the face, knocking his chair over sideways. 'Insolent little shit!' Gilchrist kicked Joe in the stomach as he lay, bound and helpless, on the ground. Joe barely reacted. He appeared to be unconscious. Gilchrist grabbed a pair of pliers from the range of tools on the table then turned Joe over, chair and all, and sat astride his neck.

Frank couldn't see what he was doing but he guessed he was pulling out Joe's teeth. 'Sick bastard.' He thought. At least it looked like Joe hadn't been conscious. He had to be grateful for small mercies.

'Why. Won't. He. GIVE UP?' Gilchrist screamed as he fought with Joe's teeth. He'd lost it.

Frank suddenly understood why Gilchrist hadn't sent this one- he could never have let them see that Joe had made him lose control. He wanted to be the cool, cruel overlord and it wouldn't fit with his image.

Frank's answer wasn't there. Joe was still fighting. He watched on.

_Mr Hardy's stay at Hotel Zeus 4._

Gilchrist had pulled himself together. He appeared to be standing outside the cell. He whispered theatrically. 'We've set up something a bit special for Joe's first night. Your boy is strong. He's determined. He has so much to live for. Let's mess with that…' Then he started to open the cell door. He paused and looked back at the camera, talking to it as if in confidence 'I should tell you, we've taking the liberty for giving young Joseph a little something to make him a bit more…..open to suggestion?' Then Gilchrist walked into the cell. The camera, apparently being carried by one of the thugs, followed and was placed down on the table, which had been moved in front of Joe. His chair had been propped back up again. Joe appeared to be having trouble focussing. His head swayed to and fro slightly. Frank noticed that the precise cuts had appeared on Joe's arm since the last recording.

Gilchrist crouched down beside Joe and put a hand on his shoulder.

'I've got bad news for you son. And it's bad news for me, really. My operatives found where your precious ladies had been taken after we released them'.

Joe's face twisted in confusion. He seemed to struggle for a second to get his mouth to co-operate, then rasped 'but you said you'd leave them alone'.

'No, I said I'd let them go. And so I did. But did I say I wouldn't pick 'em up again? Noooooo, I don't think so! Anyway, it all went a bit wrong. The safehouse was safer than we'd anticipated. I'm afraid your girls are dead. Killed in the crossfire. Oh dear, how sad, too bad.'

'Oh, God no' murmured Frank. Poor Joe.

Joe's expression was heart-breaking. He clearly didn't doubt what Gilchrist was telling him. His face twisted in agony. He started to sob, mouth open, eyes shut. 'Nooooo, no, not mom, not _Vanessa_. Aaaah, I'm going to _KILL YOU'. _He fought momentarily against his bonds before sagging back in the chair, weak and devastated.

'Well, Joseph that's admirable. However, it seems you have competition. Your father and brother are _really_ on the warpath now. I hear they're closing in on us and mean to hit our little fortress tonight. But don't worry, we're ready! Now, I have a little bit more medicine for you. It will ease the pain'. Joe didn't react, he was lost in his own misery, tears running down his cheeks. Gilchrist stood up, reached out of shot and came back with a syringe. He thrust it brutally into Joe's neck and pressed the plunger. 'Nighty night Joe. Who knows, maybe the good guys will win this one. You could be waking up to the sweet sound of your brother's voice. But I doubt it!'

Thankfully it appeared whatever Joe had been injected with wasn't the stuff that had caused him so much pain. Now unconscious, he was untied and thrown unceremoniously on the floor. The lights in the cells went off.

Frank was confused. What the hell had Gilchrist been up to? He moved on to the next video, a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

_Mr Hardy's stay at Hotel Zeus 5_.

The opening image was dark. Then an infra-red function was activated, revealing a lone figure lying on their side. Joe, Frank assumed. An audio feed kicked in. Explosions, gunfire and shouting. It sounded real but not real. Joe stirred. Suddenly, there was a loud crash. It sounded like the door to Joe's cell being burst open. It seemed the lights were out in the hall outside as well.

'Joe? Are you here?'

Frank's jaw dropped as he heard his own voice.

The infra-red camera showed a figure walking towards Joe's prone body.

'Frank?' Joe gasped.

'You're safe, let's get out of here' said the voice.

Joe tried to get up, reaching for the second figure.

Then an explosion. A shotgun had been fired, Frank realised. The figure who had come to 'rescue' Joe went down.

'Frank? Frank?' Joe was dragging himself over to 'Frank'.

Then the lights came on.

On the floor in front of Joe was a dark-haired male. He was wearing what appeared to be one of Frank's jackets. He looked for all the world like Frank Hardy. Except his face was now missing. He was dead.

A wail came from Joe's lips, long and high, as he pawed at the grotesque corpse. The noise kept going as the lights went off again and the cell door slammed shut. The recording ended.

Frank, gasping for breath and trembling, shook his head in disbelief at what he'd just seen. At the inhuman depths Gilchrist had sunk to. _Joe thought he was dead. _Shot in front of him, trying to save him. That was Not Good. The noise that had come from his brother stuck in his head, terrifying him. Had _had_ to know what happened next. He opened the last video.

_Mr Hardy's stay at Hotel Zeus 6._

Gilchrist was standing outside Joe's cell door. 'He's had the rest of the night to think about things. I wonder how he's feeling now?'

The cell door opened and the light went on. Joe was now crouched on his knees, battered face expressionless. The fake Frank's body lay beside him. Joe's hands, chest and face were stained with blood.

Gilchrist walked over and prodded Joe with his foot. There was no reaction.

'Well I guess you know who came out on top, Joseph. I'm afraid your father didn't fare any better. They're all gone now. Annoying for me. I did so want them to watch you die.'

Still no reaction from Joe.

'I've got something for you.' said Gilchrist.

'Don' appeared in the shot carrying a handgun. He put it on the ground in front of Joe. Then Gilchrist's voice said 'Joe Hardy, I've grown bored of you. Look in front of you. This is your chance to end it. Or shall we keep playing with you? It's up to you.'

Joe didn't react for a moment. Had he heard? Then, slowly, shakily, he slid one hand forward, stopping when it encountered the weapon.

Without realising it Frank got to his feet. 'No….' he whispered.

He watched, a helpless observer, as Joe grasped the gun. He swung it wildly up and over towards Gilchrist and his men.

'Which of us will you shoot, Hardy? There's only one bullet. The others will kill you. Slowly, of course. You can't bring your family back. There's no one left to help you.

The gun was shaking in Joe's weak grasp. He sobbed, his arm sagged down to the ground. Then he lifted the gun up under his chin, tipping his head back 'JOE, NO!' Frank yelled, completely caught up in the horrifying moment.

Joe pulled the trigger... and nothing happened. He pulled again. And again. Then his face screwed up and he started screaming.

The video stopped.


	11. Chapter 11

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 11- FIGHTING BACK

Frank stood in the hospital room, hands on his head, guts threatening to rebel. He was trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed. They_ did_ break Joe. But not with physical punishment- Joe had been too strong for them. With drugs, lies and deceit. They made him believe he had no one left. They had left him with what he thought was his murdered brother's grotesquely disfigured body. They had robbed him of hope and purpose.

Frank sunk down to his knees beside his brother's bed and held his hand. He stroked his face and murmured reassuring words to him. He'd been through hell.

Frank thanked God he had found Joe before he saw those videos. If he had received those last instalments by email, not knowing where Joe was….. He shut the thought out as soon as it came into his head. It was too horrific.

But what mental state would Joe be in when he woke up? He'd been virtually catatonic and completely suicidal in the last video. Would Frank be able get through to him or would he be lost in the agony of his own mind?

…..

Doctors and nurses came in and out of the little room, checking drips, administering medicine, changing dressings. It was a meaningless blur to Frank. All he could see was his little brother holding a gun to his own head and pulling the trigger, over and over. Occasionally a tear would slide, unnoticed, down his cheek. All Frank knew was that he had to be there when Joe woke up. He had to show him it wasn't true, he wasn't dead. He had to tell him his family were alive. Perhaps it was an overly simplistic approach to psychology, but he just knew it was right.

By the early hours of the next morning, Frank had fallen into an uneasy sleep in the chair by Joe's bed. Joe had been stirring on and off but had not yet been aware of his surroundings. Around 3am, Frank was awoken by…something…. Opening his eyes, he saw Joe moving around. His eyes were open but still not focused. He was clearly agitated, feeling restrained by bandages, drips and his own weakness. He was assuming he was still in Gilchrist's chamber of horrors. Instantly wide awake, Frank leaned forwards and held Joe's least injured hand again. He studied his face, unsure what the impact of hearing his voice would have on Joe.

'Joe, can you hear me? It's Frank.' He said softly.

Joe's breathing quickened further. 'No' he croaked. 'No. '

Frank brought his face close to Joe's. When he spoke, his voice shook with emotion.

'Joe I know you think I'm dead, but those bastards tricked you. I don't know who they shot but it wasn't me, they made you think it was. I did come for you but I wasn't caught. I got you out of there Joe, we're safe.'

Joe didn't seem to have understood. He was starting to panic, struggling to get up.

Frank raised his voice a little, starting to think he'd done the wrong thing.

'Come on Joe, _you know me_. Trust yourself. I don't know if you can see me yet but touch my face. _You Know Me._' He tried to guide Joe's hand to his face. Joe struggled against him weakly. Frank put Joes hand on his brow, slid it slowly down his nose, over his mouth to his chin. 'Joe? It's me- your partner, your best bud. Your biggest pain in the ass. I make you do your paperwork and stop you punching faces. C'mon, trust yourself!'

'Frank?' Joe murmured in utter disbelief.

Frank kept hold of Joe's hand with his and moved the other to Joe's cheek. 'I know you're hurting and you're confused. I'm staying right here with you. You're safe. And those bastards who hurt you are dead.'

'But….mom…Callie…Van. They killed…'

Frank cut him off 'Joe, it was all lies. All of it. The only person who was hurt was you. We are all fine. Everyone's on their way here.'

'Frank?' Joe finally managed to focus. He saw his brother's rich, brown eyes in front of him, full of concern. The eyes he had thought he would never see again. And he started to cry. Frank put his arms around Joe as best he could and held him, gently repeating 'It's OK, it's over.' in his ear.

…..

Frank sat awake in the hospital room. Joe had gone back to sleep, exhausted, minutes after he had appeared to accept that Frank was alive. Frank hadn't found sleep. For all he thought he had got through to Joe, he was still deeply concerned. Would he remember when he woke up again or would he have to convince him all over again? Did Joe remember everything that had happened to him? How was he going to cope? There were too many uncertainties.

Joe finally woke again when a nurse came in to change his drip. As he opened his eyes he looked panicked, but then he looked round slowly, searching for something- he found it and latched onto Frank's apprehensive gaze.

'Joe, it's OK, you're safe. You're going to be fine.'

'Frank, it's really you!' Joe rasped. Frank moved forwards and grasped his brother's hand, overcome with relief. The nurse went out, job done, smiling at the brothers.

'Water?'

'Here'. Frank raised Joe's bed up a touch and brought a cup of water to his lips. Joe took a sip then slumped back against his pillow, eyes screwed shut.

'Aah, shit it hurts!' He groaned.

Frank picked Joe's hand up again, eyes full of concern. 'I know. It'll get better.'

Joe opened his eyes and looked up at his brother. He spoke, his voice weak and rough. 'God, Frank, I thought they….' He stopped as a flash of memory from earlier came into his head. 'How did you know? How did you know I thought you were dead?'

Frank hesitated, unsure if knowing he had seen what Joe went through would be a help or a hindrance to him. But the thought of lying to Joe was repulsive.

'Joe, they filmed what they did to you. Some of it anyway.'

Joe dug around in his muddled mind for anything that could make that true. There was a computer in that room, a webcam. He remembered Gilchrist's theatrics. He remembered seeing his own tortured face staring back at him from the screen. Then the implications began to fall into place and he drew breath sharply.

'And you've seen it.' A statement, not a question. A stricken look crossed his face.

Frank didn't reply. He just held Joe's hand and tried to hold his gaze. Joe turned his head and shut his eyes.

'Joe, please listen. It's OK. I had to watch, to try to find you. Then to try to know how to help you. What they did to you…you know it doesn't reflect on you, right? Just on them- it shows that they really were twisted bastards that the world is a better place without.'

'Who else watched?'

'No-one. And the bad guys are dead- there won't be a court case. As far as I'm concerned, who sees it is up to you. I've got Gilchrist's computer. I can get rid of the files if that's what you decide.' Frank knew there was nothing to be gained from letting anyone else see Joe's plight.

Joe opened his eyes and looked at Frank. This time he didn't look away.

'Did you get me out?'

Frank nodded. 'Well. It was the police really. I just locked us in a mop cupboard.'

For the first time in more than a day, Joe smiled. 'You're kidding me.'

'I wish I was!'

The brother's eyes met and exchanged silent messages of love, relief and fear.

'Thanks' said Joe, his voice thick with emotion.

The moment was interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. Frank and Joe looked over at the window in the door.

'Vanessa!' exclaimed Joe, smiling broadly, then wincing as a result. Frank jumped up and ran over, opening the door for her.

Vanessa took one step in and punched Frank on the arm, hard.

'Ow!' he exclaimed.

'That's for sending us away and not telling us what the _hell_ was going on.' She said, eyes flashing, genuinely angry. Then she kissed his cheek. 'That's for finding Joe.'

Leaving Frank speechless, she ran over to Joe and started caressing his face, taking in his injuries. 'Babe, I'm so glad you're awake. What did they do to you!?'

'I'm OK Van, I don't remember much' replied Joe weakly, avoiding her gaze. Then he looked up at her, his eyes sparkling with delight at seeing her beautiful face. She leant forwards and kissed his lips gently.

Frank looked at them, uncertain. He really wasn't ready to leave Joe's side, but he didn't want to cramp the young couple's style. 'I'll give you kids some peace.' He said eventually. 'Stay with him, Van, yeah?'

'Of course. You think I'm leaving him for a second after this?'

'Thanks. Is Callie here? And mom?' said Frank.

'Yes. They wouldn't let us all in and I pulled rank. They're out in the waiting area. No one would tell us what was going on. You better go speak to them.'

Frank stopped to pick up Gilchrist's laptop. He smiled at Joe, touching his shoulder. 'I'll be back, OK. I've a few things to pick up. We'll talk more. You alright for a bit?' Joe nodded.

Frank walked out of the room, worry still playing havoc with his guts. Joe had a long way to go yet. He was pretty sure he remembered _a lot. _He hoped Joe wouldn't try to hide what had happened from Vanessa. But he was an adult, it was his choice.

Meantime, they still had a mole to catch!


	12. Chapter 12 and 13THE END

A TANGLED WEB

CHAPTER 12- THE MOLE REVEALED

Frank was back in the Hardy Detective Agency offices, collecting together various bits of equipment to take back to the hospital with his own laptop. There was no way Frank was leaving Joe for long. The pain of not knowing where he was while he was suffering was too fresh, plus Joe had to be on seriously shaky ground from an emotional point of view. But there was nothing stopping Frank working at the hospital.

He'd had a brief reunion with his mother and Callie in the waiting room. Mindful of Vanessa's overt annoyance with him, he'd been quick to jump in with an apology for not staying in touch with them. Between that and everyone's overwhelming relief at Joe being found and conscious, he'd escaped without further injury.

Frank had only told them the bare bones of what had happened. Whether it was right or wrong to share the details of what had happened to Joe with the rest of the family was not for him to decide, no matter what his own view. It would be Joe's choice and Frank would respect it.

Frank had hugged and kissed Laura and Callie, then made his excuses and headed for the office.

Fatigue was really catching up with him now. He growled in annoyance as a wave of dizziness hit him. He did _not _want to stop until _everyone _who'd had anything to do with what had happened to Joe was identified. If that included Gray, so be it. He had to get back to Gray's data. If Gray was the mole, the chances are it would be meaningless. It would certainly explain why it was all in code and he hadn't been provided with any key. But if Gray wasn't the mole, it might help prove him innocent.

He had to stop for a coffee.

Frank switched on the coffee machine and sat down, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Was it really only two days since he and his father had sat here together, happy and relaxed? His face clouded over as he thought about his father leaving him behind in the way he did. Of course, if he hadn't, Joe would be dead. Frank shut his eyes, wishing he hadn't started that train of thought. Images of Joe being hurt and manipulated flashed unbidden through his head again.

Frank's cellphone rang and he exhaled in relief. A welcome distraction.

He pulled it out his pocket. It was his father.

'Dad?'

'Frank, how is he?'

'He's awake. He's smiling a bit.'

'Thank God! I spoke to Collig, but I'm missing a lot of the story.'

'I know. I'll fill you in in person if you don't mind. What's happening with Gray?'

'He's being….detained. He's admitting to nothing beyond legitimate contact with Zeus. He did give me some more information about their other operatives though. They had two infiltrators working deep undercover in Gilchrist's immediate staff. Network agents are awaiting access to the deceased from the restaurant to try to establish if they're among them.

'Do you know what they looked like? I got a look at the two that were working beside Gilchrist. Although if they were undercover they _must _have switched sides or we wouldn't have been told Joe was in Colombia. And I like to think they might not have done what they did to him. Sadistic bastards.' Frank spat, unable to hide his feelings.

Yes, one was 5 foot 8, 42, thin, bald. The other was about 6ft 2, 30, muscular, blond…'

That sounded familiar. Another scene he'd come across the previous day came back to him. 'Dad, I'm pretty sure those guys were dead when I first went in. There were three bodies under a blanket. Two would match those descriptions.'

'Any idea how long they'd been dead?'

'They weren't particularly fresh. They certainly smelt like they were decaying. And that was in a cold store. I'm guessing 5 or 6 days? Maybe more? The autopsies might have been done by now- you should be able to find out.'

'Right, leave it with me'

'Dad? Do you have their codenames?'

'I can get them. Why?'

'Just in case I find them amongst the data Gray left me. And if you can me a key for the rest of the data he left, that would save a lot of time.'

'I'll see what I can do. I do have Gray's though, if that's any help. It's…..GH667.' there was a pause. 'Frank- what did they do to Joe?'

Frank cringed. He should have expected the question. 'Dad, really, you name it. He's not talking much yet' he said evasively. 'But he's alive. He's awake. He doesn't seem to have brain damage. And he smiled! That has to be good, right?'

Fenton's voice sounded tight. 'Right. Give him my love. I'll call you soon.'

...

Frank strode back into the hospital bearing a bag of gadgets. He was desperate to lay his eyes on Joe again for all he'd only been away for just under two hours.

He took the elevator to Joe's floor. As the door opened, revealing the waiting area, he spied Vanessa. She was sitting by herself in tears.

Frank felt a sudden wave of panic. He hurried over to her.

'What happened? Is he OK?'

'Yes. He's with Callie and Laura. This is me away getting them coffee.' She laughed weakly. Then she grasped Frank's hand with both of hers. 'Frank, he told me. He told me what they did. Frank, how could anyone do that to someone?'

Frank hesitated, unsure what Joe might have shared with her and not wanting to say the wrong thing. He sat down beside Vanessa, putting his arm around her.

'What did he tell you?'

'Do you know?'

'Yes.'

'They raped him! Oh Frank. He was so…brave. He said he couldn't hide it from me in case they'd infected him with something. He's had that done to him, he's so weak he can hardly move and he was comforting me! Can you believe it?'

Frank's overwhelming feeling was relief. Joe had told Vanessa! He wasn't trying to hide it from her. He could talk about it. That was all good. But so much more had happened to him. Frank hugged Vanessa as she sobbed. She slowly gained control of herself and he sat back again, one arm still round her shoulders.

'Did he say anything else?'

'Not much. Is there more?!'

Frank searched for the right words. 'Van, they gave him a really bad time. He's going to need a lot of support. But he's going to get it, right? He'll be fine. We have to be strong for him. And if you need to talk, talk to me. OK? I'm here for both of you.'

'Thanks Frank. Same goes for you. OK? You're not superman. Don't try to carry it all. Although officially I'm still really annoyed with you!'

Frank smiled and gave her a squeeze. 'Did he tell anyone else?'

'I don't know. They went in when I went out. Frank, I'm going to go get that coffee and clean myself up. I need him to think I'm back together. I know him too Frank. I'm not giving him something else to feel bad about!' She got up and walked towards the elevator, turning and giving Frank a wave as she went.

Frank smiled. He loved Vanessa. Not in the way he loved Callie. But he loved her all the same. Joe couldn't have found a better person to marry.

Frank stood up, brushed himself off and went back to Joe's room. As he opened the door, he heard laughter. Frank knew instantly that Joe hadn't confided in anyone else. He had fallen into his customary role as Joe the Entertainer. Callie and their mom were giggling at something he'd said. Joe, for all he was still pale and weak, looked relaxed and pleased with himself. It was good to see but it didn't seem right to Frank.

'Hi guys' he said. 'How you doing, Joe?' He sat down beside Callie and gave her a kiss, then reached over and touched Joe's arm.

'OK I think. You?' Joe replied.

'Absolutely exhausted.' Frank admitted. 'But I've still got work to do. I was given some coded information. I need to try to work out what it means.'

'Can I help?' said Joe.

Frank looked at his brother doubtfully. He looked pale, sick, shaky. And hopeful.

What harm could it do? 'Sure, you can have a look. I'm so tired my head's about had enough. I'd appreciate the help.'

There was a little table on wheels sitting across Joe's bed. It had a glass of water and some car magazine someone had brought for him on it. Frank cleared it and put his laptop in front of Joe. Bending over it, he found Gray's files and showed them to Joe.

'I didn't get far with them. I got….interrupted. They're partially encrypted records of supposedly legitimate communications between the Network and Zeus.'

Joe raised his eyebrows.

'I know' said Frank. 'Anyway, there's been information leaking to and from Gilchrist over the last week or so, definitely the time during which they had you. It may be here.'

'We need to find the leak, right?' said Joe, quietly.

'Yeah. Have a scan through and see what you can see. I'll have a poke about on Gilchrist's computer to see what else is on there.'

'OK. How were they communicating? What medium?'

'That I don't know. The Network use a range of devices. That's not so important at the moment. We'll find out.'

'Gotcha.'

Callie and Laura exchanged glances. Back to business. It was good to see. They sat in companionable silence as Frank and Joe worked together, Joe's one good hand moving over the keyboard awkwardly.

...

'Right.' Said Joe, once he'd skimmed through the data. 'Up until three days ago, the traffic is busy. Assuming each agent code is an individual, there are 6 people communicating from Zeus to the Network several times a day. The day I got picked up that went down to two. They both have the same code for their contact point. I assume the contact point is a specific person. That narrows it down to those three people. Simple. If we could see the message content we could narrow it down further.'

'So,' said Frank, 'they had six undercover operatives. After the raids that went down to two. Yes, simple. Why didn't Gray know that? He didn't need to farm that out to me.'

'I don't know.'

'Look Joe. The most recent document created on this was seven days ago. It's password protected but look at its title.'

He swung the computer round to Joe, pointing.

_HH637 com codes_

'HH637. That's one of the agent codes of the last two men. This has got to be it, Frank.'

Callie, Laura and Vanessa, who had finally returned with coffee looking much recovered, looked up from their magazines.

'Can you hack into it?' said Laura.

The four younger people in the room all looked at her.

'Mom, you hack into systems, you _crack _passwords.' said Joe, patiently.

Laura rolled her eyes. Her sons really had become nerds!

'I should think I can crack it.' Joe went on 'The operating system is an easy one to manipulate. Gilchrist must have been pretty confident no one would get hold of the computer.' He tapped away for a few minutes. Then 'Yes, I'm in! OK, it's a list of dates, times, codes and time intervals. What does that mean?'

'Let me see.' Frank turned the two computers round so he could compare them. 'The dates and times match those in Gray's database for the last seven days. Wait a minute. The contact point code on the database _and _the document. GH667. Dad said that was Gray's code! It _is_ him! He's the man in the Network who fed the information to and from Gilchrist!

'But Frank….' Joe began.

They were interrupted by the door opening. It was Fenton Hardy!

'Dad!' said Joe.

Fenton stepped in to the room, smiling broadly. 'Joe, thank goodness…..'

Glancing behind his father, Franks jaw dropped. Lurking outside the door uncertainly was Agent Gray.

'_You bastard!' _ Frank yelled, jumping up and storming out of the room. Frank ran out of the door and grabbed Gray by the throat, marching him back across the hall outside until he hit the opposite wall then pinning him to it.

Frank could hear sounds around him as he squeezed Gray's neck. He was aware of Callie, his father, a nurse- all telling him to stop. His father trying to break his death grip. All he could see was Gray. The man they had thought they could trust. The man who had known where Joe was but had told them he was in Colombia. The last man standing who was to blame for Joe's suffering. He shook with fury, overcome by his primal desire to kill him.

One voice got through to him.

Joe. Shouting hoarsely from his bed.

'Frank! Stop. I don't think he knew he was speaking to Gilchrist. Frank, please!'

Shaken back to reality, Frank opened his hands and stepped back. Gray slumped on the floor, gasping. Frank backed away, back towards Joe. 'Talk to me Joe, what do you mean?' Frank's voice trembled, fury and adrenaline still searching for an outlet.

'Frank look at the agent codes. He wasn't contacting Gilchrist. He was contacting one of the Network's undercover men. Remember? Or so he thought. Gilchrist must have been intercepting the messages. The codes in the document are telling him how to do it.'

'What?'

Frank shut his eyes, his tired mind trying to understand. He really needed to sleep. He walked back to Gray, ignoring everyone else in the room.

'What did you do Gray? Were you speaking to Gilchrist? Or were you stupid enough to think you could still trust one of your agents when they'd been undercover with Gilchrist for a year?

'Frank' Gray gasped 'I thought I was talking to our best agent. The man I trusted most in the world.' Frank's jaw dropped as he saw Gray's face crumple and a tear roll down his cheek.

'Frank'. It was his father. Fenton put a hand on Frank's arm. 'The bodies you found. Two _were_ the Network agents. They had been tortured. They must have revealed their contact methods and codes before they were killed. Gilchrist carried on communicating in their place. Sending false information and receiving updates about our movements. It was all him. The agents had been dead for a week. When we realised there was a leak Gray cut off all communication apart from that with the only man he trusted. But he wasn't talking to him. He was dead. He was talking to Gilchrist and never knew it.'

Frank looked back down at Gray. He heard his father's voice again.

'The blond man. It was Gray's son.'

Frank sunk down to his knees beside the broken man, head reeling. Empathy began to replace his aggression. Gray's son had been hurt like Joe was. But he was dead. Frank couldn't speak. He put his hand on Gray's shoulder.

CHAPTER 13- REPERCUSSIONS?

Two weeks had passed since Joe's rescue. Frank had found himself very busy trying to mop up the loose ends of the case with his father, Collig and agents from the Network. Gray had disappeared. Frank understood. He was glad. He was still furious with him. He must have suspected that his son was the mole but just couldn't admit to it. He'd ignored it. But Frank felt so bad for him he didn't want to confront him. It was best that he'd gone away.

Frank and Fenton's first moment alone, back in the family office, had been awkward. Frank had found he could barely meet his father's eye, he was so disillusioned by how he'd acted. Fenton had tried to break the ice. 'Frank, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone without talking to you. But maybe one day you'll have children. Then you'll understand why I did it'

It was like lighting a fuse. 'Don't patronise me, Dad!' Frank shouted 'I don't know what you were thinking. I'm not a boy. I'm your partner. Joe is too. You know that. You can't let that happen again. The only saving grace is that what you did saved Joe's life. Completely inadvertently. But it did. From now on, we're either working as a team- no matter what the circumstances- or we aren't working together at all. Right?'

Fenton had nodded, resigned. He knew Frank was right.

...

Joe had spent four days in hospital before being allowed home. Vanessa had never left his side. Her devotion was touching. But it also meant Frank hadn't had a chance to talk to Joe properly. He knew Joe had finally given a statement to the police, but not what he had told them. He would have loved to be there for Joe while he had gone through that, but hadn't realised it was happening until too late. On the face of it, Joe seemed to be coping astonishingly well. He was very sore, but he was smiling and laughing again. Life and soul of the party.

The one thing he was pretty sure Joe hadn't shared with anyone were Gilchrist's mind games and the effect they had had on him. Frank tried to convince himself Joe had written it off as soon as he'd found out his reason for living- his family- was OK. Still, he had to be sure.

So, a few days after Joe's release from hospital, Frank and Callie went round to his apartment. Frank, in the nicest way, requested some one-on-one time with his brother. Vanessa had looked uncertain, but then grinned. She understood the brother's close bond and had missed having girly time with Callie. 'Sure', she said brightly 'how about me and Callie catch a movie then something to eat at yours? I could stay over. You boys could have a good catch-up and we'll see you back here for breakfast tomorrow morning? Is that okay with everyone?' There was a chorus of 'yes' from everyone. This was something they did pretty regularly and it almost felt like returning to normality in some way.

Vanessa grabbed some things and the girls headed off.

'So what would you like to do, Joe?' asked Frank, flopping down on the sofa beside his brother.

'I don't know, Chinese?' Joe suddenly looked ill-at-ease. He picked self-consciously at his cast. Frank felt a sliver of worry. Was Joe really handling things as well as he seemed to be? He looked his brother over quickly. Arm in a cast. Moving awkwardly- the ribs and the leg were still painful. He still looked bruised. The cuts were healing. The needle marks on his neck had all but faded. But his eyes. He looked tired, even haunted, when he relaxed.

'OK. I thought you might like to hear the latest from the investigation. Collig and Gray's replacement came in to the office this afternoon to debrief us. I said I'd fill you in seeing as you're still stuck at home.'

'Collig and a Network head in the same place at the same time?! And the universe didn't implode?' Joe looked amused. Then he frowned 'I could have come in to the office you know. You could have called me'.

'Sorry. I didn't think you'd be up to it. You're meant to be recuperating. You're right though, I should have asked'. Frank almost held his breath.

But Joe smiled again 'it's OK. You're probably right.' The argument was averted before it started. Frank felt slightly more worried.

'How you doing, Joe? Really?'

Joe wriggled uncomfortably. 'Honestly Frank, I'm fine. I'll be even better in a few months when all the tests are complete and I know I don't have HIV. Or hepatitis. Or god knows what else. Or a mutated brain from that stuff they kept giving me. Enough about me- tell me everything. Now. And I don't want left out of anything else either- OK?' Joe kept his tone light but the message was clear to Frank; I don't want to talk about it just help me keep busy so I don't have time to worry!

'Okay. Fair enough. So there's still a load of stuff we don't understand, but we know a bit more. We know how they got you into the restaurant. The police had confiscated CCTV recordings from the shop opposite the entrance to the alleyway. Officers had watched through it but only until the van with the girls in it took off. Collig went back and watched on. About ten minutes after the van left, another turned up. The restaurant's own van. It had 'Le Porte Bonheur' plastered down the sides of it. Four men lifted a crate out of it and carried it down the stairs. Right in front of folk eating their lunch. I guess people thought nothing of it- just thought it was food or equipment being delivered.

'So I guess I was in it? I remember the back door of the van opening then getting clouted on the head. Nothing else until I was trussed up in the cellar. OK, what else?'

'We know what the link was between Gilchrist and the French restaurant. Turns out the man who owns it, Antoine Auber, was a neighbour of Gilchrist's family when he was about 14. The guy felt sorry for him because his parents weren't around much so they were kind of friends.'

Joe raised an eyebrow and looked doubtful.

Frank shook him head 'looks like there was nothing dodgy about it. He was just a nice man trying to help the boy out. But then work took him away and they didn't see each other again until last year. They ran in to each other in Hong Kong, of all places. Of course, Auber had no idea what Gilchrist had become. Anyway, when Auber decided on the restaurant venture, Gilchrist jumped in and offered to manage the place. Said he had a mate who was a chef. I guess one of his men really could cook- Callie said the food was great!'

'But why?'

'It was literally only about ten days ago. They're speculating that it coincides with Gilchrist first finding out about the multinational net closing in around him. And somehow he found out about Gilchrist's son and the other Network man. Once he'd worked on them he found out everything that was going on pretty quickly. When he found out about our involvement, the restaurant put him in the ideal position to take revenge.

'But why not just escape? Why not do what he pretended to do and hole up in some rainforest somewhere? And why us? Why not any of the other people involved in the investigation?'

'That they don't know. Apparently he'd always been a bit on the eccentric side, but latterly he took a lot of questionable decisions. It was almost like he lost interest in Zeus when he realised it was going to be largely shut down. And instead of fighting back, he just refocused on revenge. He used the Network contact system to spread misinformation so we would have no idea where you were. Like you were being dangled on a string in front of our noses while he entertained himself sending us off to the ends of the earth. I don't think he really cared if he was caught after he's set out to do what he wanted. It's proving hard to make sense of his actions for a good reason- his actions made no sense. He seemed to have been a bit- unhinged- maybe just because he saw his empire collapsing around him.'

'What about the bodies in the basement? Any IDs?'

'Yes. The two Network agents we know about. The others all worked for Gilchrist…..'

'What? Why would he kill his own men?'

'Again, we can only really speculate. The two the police found hadn't been linked with him that long. If he'd already uncovered two moles, he will have been suspicious. Paranoid even. I guess after he killed the first two he kept going.

'And the last man?'

'Which last man?'

'The third body you found in the cold store?'

Frank hesitated, looking at his brother uncertainly.

'What? Spill.' pushed Joe.

'He worked for Gilchrist too. Had done for some time. I guess he didn't know what Gilchrist had planned for him. He was…..he was the guy they made you think was me.'

Joe didn't react for a second. When he did there was a slight hitch to his voice. 'I still don't….I still don't get how….I mean the way I remember it, it _was_ you'.

Frank reached over and put a hand on Joe's shoulder.

'Joe, they drugged you for a start.'

'It must have been more than that'

'It was. The guy's build and hair was the same as mine. They'd dressed him in a jacket the same as the black one I use on stakeouts. And you heard my voice. I found a recording of my voice on Gilchrist's laptop. It was made up of various things I've said when I've been on the phone to Agent Gray.'

'Gray!? How? '

'He was recording our conversations. He'd forwarded some to his son, or so he thought. Gilchrist had requested them from him. Apparently he said it was because he might have to phone you and he wanted to be able to recognise your voice to be sure it was you he was speaking to.'

'That's seriously creepy. So. I still can't quite believe I thought this guy was you.' Joe couldn't let it go.

Alarm bells were going off in Frank's head. He spoke gently. 'Joe, you looked pretty out of it. The lights were off until he was dead. And when the lights went on his face was….not recognisable.'

'It was gone. I tried to find a way to do CPR. There was nothing left.' Joe's voice was quiet.

Frank's jaw dropped. 'Oh Jesus Joe. I'm so sorry. I didn't know that.'

'Have you got the videos with you?'

Frank was caught off-guard. He paused to gather his thoughts. He had deleted the emails that Gilchrist had sent. And he had handed back Gilchrist's laptop after removing all the security so anyone could access all of it. But he had also removed all trace of the videos from there. He had, however, copied them onto his own laptop first. He wanted Joe to be the one to decide to delete them. In fact, if the conversation had gone that way tonight, he was going to ask Joe what he wanted to happen.

He didn't quite anticipate Joe raising it himself so early on.

'Yes. I thought you might want to delete them yourself'

Joe laughed dryly. 'A sort of cathartic experience you mean?'

'I suppose. I didn't quite think of it like that. I just wanted it to be your decision'

'Thanks.' He fixed his eyes on Frank's. 'I want to watch them.'

'_What!_ Joe, no! Why?'

'I need to understand what happened. Properly. Frank, it's like I've got some freaky horror show in my head but the plot makes no sense. I've no idea what's real and what's not. Please Frank.'

Frank shut his eyes. He _knew _Joe was covering something up. There was no way anyone could have swept horrendous experiences like these under the carpet in the way Joe seemed to have. Frank had been having terrible nightmares himself and he had experienced none of it first-hand.

'I don't know, Joe.'

'Frank, I _need_ this. Please.'

This was _not_ what Frank had in mind for the evening. But, for all Frank wanted to protect Joe he had to respect his choice.

'Sure. You want company?'

'No'

'OK Joe, I'll set up in your office. Joe, if you need me…'

'I know.'

The brothers went into the office, Joe still limping painfully. Frank lined up the videos on his file manager. He plugged in his headphones, not wanting to hear again himself.

Respecting Joe's wishes, Frank retreated from the office uncertainly.

...

And now here was Frank, sitting in the living room, waiting, trying to concentrate on a movie. He had left Joe in the office an hour and a half earlier. The videos should be finished by now. But no Joe. Once again, concern over his brother was making Frank feel physically sick.

Frank went through cautiously. Joe was sitting at the desk, looking at a blank screen, his face expressionless.

Frank walked over and pulled up a chair beside him.

'You OK?'

Joe hesitated. 'I deleted the files'

'And are you OK?'

'I don't…I don't know.'

'You want to talk?'

'No….maybe.'

Frank took a deep breath. He put his hand on Joe's shoulder. 'Joe, they did a good job on you. Hurt you till you didn't know which way was up, made you think there was no escape, that your family were gone…..they took your dignity….and they made you want to die. It's over. They are ALL dead and we're not. None of us.'

Joe looked pale and shaken. He didn't speak.

'Joe, I know you. You would do anything in the world to protect the people you love. That includes protecting them from seeing you're suffering. But I know you too well. And I think Van does too. Talk to me Joe.'

'Everything, EVERYTHING I thought they might have done to me they really did, didn't they. The bastards. Whenever I shut my eyes I'm there again. Whenever I wake up I think I'm there.' Frank tightened his grip on Joe's shoulder and shut his eyes, aching for his brother.

'Joe. I'm here for you man. Whatever you need.'

'You know what kept me going? The whole time all I could think was I was so glad it was me they got and not you, not Vanessa, not any of you. Watching that I thought the same. I know what they did was bad, but I could deal with it.…..but when I thought you were all dead….I can't believe I nearly….' He faltered 'I just couldn't…there was just no reason any more…...'

'Oh, Joe, it's OK.' Frank put his arms around Joe. Joe crumbled for the first time since he'd first woken up, confused and terrified. He cried the tears of a strong man who has been pushed too far. Frank put his arms around his brother, pulled him into his chest and held him close.

It was several minutes before Joe calmed down and pulled himself together. 'Sorry Frank. What an idiot, getting so upset about something that never even happened!' He flashed a ghost of a lop-sided grin at his brother and then looked him directly in the eye. He could see Frank was trying to come up with just the right thing to say.

'Frank? I know you're worried I'm going to lose it. You don't need to be. What they did to me was, well, horrible. But, providing they've not given me some bloody disease on top of everything else, I can handle it. It's OK. Not OK, but you know what I mean. I'm up and down but I'll get used to it. The bit I couldn't handle was thinking you were all dead. And you're not. It's like Christmas! Everything else just means nothing.'

'Joe, you're….. well, 'tough' just doesn't even touch it. You're amazing. After what they did, you're entitled to feel a bit….not as you should. Anyone else would be in daily therapy'.

'Knowing you're all alive _is_ my daily therapy' said Joe, quietly, his voice sincere.

Frank smiled, touched. 'But if anything does get to you, if you need to talk again. Come to me, OK? Don't try to hide it. Anytime, day or night. Deal?'

'Deal'

Joe stuck out his hand and Frank grasped it tightly.

'Now get me a beer, bro. I'm still an invalid you know!'

Frank threw a cushion at Joe's head, laughing. He saw that mischievous glint in his brother's eye. And he knew Joe would be OK. He needed time and he needed his family. But he would be just fine.

THE END

Thanks for reading. It's been quite an experience! I hadn't anticipated how much the reviews would start to matter to me for each chapter- I'll be reviewing a lot more for other folk now, that's for sure! It's been a tense couple of weeks, wondering if the standard would be OK throughout, or if I had pushed poor Joe too far for some of the people who had liked the story at the start. I love him really! Well, I love both of them- it's their relationship that's the real draw for me. Hurting Joe is just a vehicle for showing it off in the way I like.

Anyway. When I recover from this, if people would like, I'll maybe choose another to share. I'll probably just put it all up at once straight in with an M rating. You know what you're going to get now!

Meantime, it's a big day here in Scotland- what will tomorrow bring? Independence or not, angry backlashes or not? Real life drama can be interesting too. Not as interesting as those Hardy Boys of course! Proof reading this old story has been a grand distraction for me. Thank you!


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